


Psychological Scars in Spacetime

by NotMyOrthonym



Series: A Walk Down Memory Lane [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, M/M, Sadstuck, Stabdads, Suicide Attempt, blood player only, only karkat remembers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 70,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyOrthonym/pseuds/NotMyOrthonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone else came out brand new, a bright new chance. They're happy. No one's dead or crippled.</p><p>Karkat came our scarred and broken. He's uncomfortable in his own skin and he can't tell anyone why. He never got his new chance. </p><p>To everyone else the game never happened. But Karkat is a Blood player. And he remembers. He remembers everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TODAY FOR SURE

It’s the little things that convince you today is the day. 

It’s the way that Terezi rubs at her eyes when she wakes up.

(Like something’s wrong with them, like they’re not right.)

(And oh god you want to tell her why.)

It’s the way that John looks away when Rose and Kanaya kiss.

(It’s all your fault but he’s so close to happy now, but he still can’t look right at them.)

(Reminds you why you can’t say anything.)

It’s the way Eridan and Kanaya obsess over the new fashion lines together.

(You have to tell yourself that it’s good that they’re friends.)

(Memories tear you in half in an eerily familiar manner.)

And it’s the way Dave ignores you in favor of rapping with Tavros, while everyone else groans.

(You hate their raps more than most.)

(No one has ever asked you why.)

But most of all, it’s the way that all you don’t even have to close your eyes to see gray skin and yellow eyes, horns and claws and sharp teeth, god pajamas and heavy weaponry and broken faces, things that aren’t there.

You don’t tell anyone. You smile as much as you ever do, maybe a little more, and you try to enjoy your moments with them. You take mental snapshots each time someone smiles. If your mind was a camera, you’d need new film.  
And then you part ways at the end of the day, after dinner, smiling softly to yourself as you make your way back to your apartment.

You unlock the door and kick off your shoes. You walk slowly to your room. You reach up and take your replica of Homes Smell Ya Later off the wall. You’ve tried to make replicas of all your weapons. Most are just plastic, but this was a gift from Equuis for your 20th birthday (10 sweeps old at last). These are sharp and real. 

(He still doesn’t know why you like sickles so much.) 

You think for a moment about where to do it. You wonder if you should make it more poetic, maybe leave a note, maybe pose dramatically. 

But you’re tired of all the drama in your lives. And you’ve never been very poetic. And you want to leave a mess, because you always do, and at least you can be consistent.

So you just sit up on your bed with a sickle in hand. You run the curved blade gently along one wrist, just to test its sharpness. 

It’s amazing how your blood used to torment you so. You’re still not completely comfortable with it, and you’ve never liked bleeding in public, but in private it is the last bodily tie you have to who you used to be. You find a small sort of relief in seeing that at least this has not changed. 

It’s surprisingly easy to break the skin of your wrists. It barely hurts. But, you have a high pain tolerance. After all, you can remember worse. Much worse. 

As the red flows and flows, you slowly black out. And for the first time in 21 years (10 ½ sweeps, you have to keep making conversions in your head, because sweeps is just … just better), you feel calm. You’re ready to go.

TG: yo karkat you left your cell phone at the restaurant  
TG: karkat  
TG: you there?  
TG: wait shit i have your cell phone, no way you’re gonna get these  
TG: shit  
TG: why yes madam mayor, i will accept the nobel prize for science, lordie knows i'm the opposite of a moron  
TG: anyway, sollux is bringing it to you  
TG: cause he has a key  
TG: yup

“KK?”

“KK, open up already.”

“You can’t be asleep already. That’s so lame.”

“Fuck it, I’m coming in.”

“KK where the fuck are you? Am I gonna have to wake you up? Shit, this isn’t going to go well.”

“Is your bedroom door seriously locked? Are you kidding me? Why the fuck do you lock your bedroom door? You live alone! Fuck, now I’m gonna have to pick it, because I absolutely have to wake you up and mock you about this.”

“Where the fuck are your paper clips? Do you seriously not have any?”

“Why are they in the kitchen? What the fuck, KK? Why would you put them there?”

“Okay … almost … got … it.”

“God I suck at this.”

“YES!”

“Haha, KK I can’t believe you slept through all – holy shit. KK what – what – shit – uh 911, right I should – I should call 911 – fuck that’s a lot of blood – shit – why’d you do that – Karkat – where’s a phone? – why isn’t your phone in its holder what the fuck this is an emergency and I can’t find the phone – shit, I’m holding a phone in my hand god I’m smart – hello? 911? My friend – my friend slit his wrists and I – there’s a ton of blood – I don’t know what to do – uh – 413 Knight Avenue, apartment 12c – I don’t know – I just found him like this – at least 20 minutes – probably more – shit, yeah, okay.”

“Fuck. Why – why did you – we literally saw you not an hour ago – you were happy – why didn’t you tell any of us – why didn’t you say anything – shit, KK, please don’t die. Please. I’m begging you. Just – just don’t die.”

“He’s in here! He’s in here! Please, can I come with him?”

“Family only? But that’s – that’s such bullshit! We’ve known each other since we were like 5, I should get – sorry. I’ll follow behind.”

“AA – can you – something’s happened. It’s Karkat. Shit, I just – I need you to drive me to the hospital. I don’t have time to explain. Yeah, at his apartment. See you soon.”

You don’t like waking up. You don’t like it one bit. For the first time ever, in this place, sleep is wonderful. No horrorterrors. No sleep rage. No dream bubbles full of the dead and doomed. Just … dreams. Memories. Asleep is how you prefer to be. You’ve only ever felt comfortable while asleep. Thus you have an extreme hatred of waking up. It’s worse when the light is sharp. Your eyes are sensitive, so you try to make sure the lights are off, but you never expected the afterlife to be considerate, so you don’t know why you’re surprised. 

You hadn’t expected being dead to hurt this much.

You hadn’t expected to feel much at all, really. (Religion in this world is bullshit considering you know how the world was made, and you’ve never really thought you’d reach the dreambubbles from here, so you hadn’t expected an afterlife at all really.)

(You hope you’re in the dream bubbles. Maybe you’ll finally get your body back now.)

You swallow a couple times. Your throat feels rough.

“You’re awake.” That’s definitely a Dave. You wonder if it’s your Dave.

“Am I dead?” You’ve learned confirmation is always required. You’ve seen legitimate half death before, so you want to make sure you’re well and truly dead.

“No, but you gave it your best shot.”

“Fuck you if you think that was my best shot. I have way better shots in me. Shots so good whichever basketball player you like ironically is currently doubled over crying out tears of rage and hatred, because he knows that nothing he has will ever compare to my stored up shots.” You shouldn’t be surprised that you failed. You fuck everything up somehow. You hate yourself a little more for not even managing to kill yourself properly.

Dave doesn’t respond and you still don’t want to open your eyes. The lights are too bright and you’re tired as hell and if you don’t look you can still pretend that maybe he’s just shitting you and you’re really actually dead.  
You hear a rustle of clothing as he gets up. He walks briskly across the room and opens the door. Fuck that’s a loud door. You hate that door. 

“He’s awake.”

There’s some sort of commotion outside. You wonder how many of your friends are out there, wasting their days in waiting rooms because of you. You throw that into the giant pile of “Reasons why Karkat Vantas is the most useless organism to ever exist”, in the “Why does anyone still hang out with me?” section.

You think about trying to doze off again while they debate something stupid, but you’re well and truly awake now. You figure you might as well try to open your eyes.

Ow. 

Take it like a man, Vantas.

The light is too bright and the room is too white and your head hurts but you keep your eyes open. You deserve this, you remind yourself. 

You don’t look over at the door. You don’t want to see them right now. Which is terrible, because they all clearly want to see you. That goes in the pile too. 

You miss piles. They’re not as comfortable now. 

Dave actually leaves the room now. It’s some big debate apparently. You wonder what about. Probably about who gets to actually kill you about all this. Probably Kanaya. Or John. Actually, Jade’s most likely. That’s a nice thought really. You think Jade deserves the catharsis after all this time.

You spend five minutes daydreaming about Jade killing you. You decide in the end she’d probably just feed you to Bec. That shouldn’t make you as happy as it does.

The door opens again. You don’t look over to see who enters.

“What’s up with the big powwow out there? You all gonna come in and do a big dance around me? Make it rain?”

“Hospital rules. Two at a time. Had to decide who got first.” The lisp means it’s Sollux. He’s oddly quiet. 

“You must be fucking ecstatic then. Duality fetish. Surprised you didn’t come in second just for kicks.” You close your eyes again.

“Wow, amazing how you’re still such an asshole.” He’s closer to normal volume now. That’s better.

“Why’d you win first go anyway? Did you call dibs on me? Didn’t know you wanted to see me so bad, fuckass, you shoulda just told me. Don’t worry, the minute I’m out I’ll make an honest man of you.” 

There’s a really uncomfortable pause. You wonder who the other person is. They’re quiet. That rules out John, Terezi, Vriska, Nepeta, Feferi, Eridan, and Jade. Maybe it’s Aradia. She and Sollux would come in together.

“We figured he gets first visit, seeing as he’s the one who found you.” You wince. Fuck. Sollux really didn’t need to see that. You hadn’t thought about who found you. Or why. Shit.

“What about you? What gave you firsties, Strider?” This moment goes in the pile too, under “Lashing out at people who just want to help even though they’re fucking useless wrigglers”. It happens more often than you’d think. 

“Karkat,” shit Sollux is serious, he’s not calling you KK, shit shit shit. “Why’d you do it?” It’s so soft you almost don’t hear it. You squeeze your eyes tighter shut and wonder if you can just pretend it was too quiet. “Answer me.” 

You don’t. You really don’t feel like it.

“We would have understood, you know.” You crack a smile at Dave. Then you giggle a little. Giggle is really the only word for it, it’s girly and high and completely embarrassing, but you can’t find another word that fits. It doesn’t stop either, just works its way from a giggle to a short sharp laugh to a fit that you can’t stop, shaking and laughing and crying and Dave and Sollux don’t say anything but you can feel their hands hovering close to you, completely unsure what to do about this. 

You laugh yourself hoarse. You don’t stop for half an hour at least. It’s painful and sad and bitter and hilarious all at the same time. They’ll understand. Please. That’s just hilarious. That’s the funniest thing Dave’s ever said. Like they could. Like they wouldn’t think you’re crazy. Like you wanted them too. Like you wanted them understand exactly how fucked up you are and why and what that means about them. 

Like you wanted them to remember.

Please.

You wouldn’t wish that on any of them. Ever.

You’d only ever wish it on you.


	2. i diidn't 2ee iit comiing

You don’t think you’ve ever been so tired in your whole life. Which is saying something, because you’ve stayed up for 3 days straight on coding benders. You’re also prone to bad bouts of insomnia every few months, usually when your bipolar tendencies act up.

Fuck, you’ve got a lot of problems. To be honest, you’d always thought that if anyone ended up in the hospital, it’d be you.

Not Karkat. 

Never Karkat.

Sure, you knew he hated himself a lot, but not that much. You figured he was too stubborn to ever try anything like this. Actually, that’s a rationalization for why you didn’t see this coming. The truth is it just never, ever occurred to you. Ever. 

You wonder if you missed some signs. You wonder if you should have paid more attention. Maybe you should have been less focused on your Eridan drama. Or your Feferi drama. Or your life drama. 

Fuck you have a lot of drama. 

You’d be in the room, waiting with him, but you can’t stand it. You really can’t. He looks dead, not sleeping. Every time you look at his still face you see the stained mattress and the sickle and the blood everywhere. 

It took you 20 minutes to find out what he had done. You spent 20 minutes with your slowly dying friend, mocking him from the other side of the door. Could you be any more of an asshole? No. No you could not.

He was so still, the whole time. He’s a deep sleeper, but not a calm one. He moves almost constantly in his sleep, like he’s got way too much energy contained in this one little body. You remember sleepovers where he went to sleep like a normal person and woke up with the covers over his face, one leg off the side, and the other one bent up near his head. Once you had to share a sleeping bag on a camping trip because he forgot his, and he ended up biting you half the night. 

But when you found him, when the paramedics took him away, the entire night that he’s been here, he’s been deathly still. It’s unnatural. You hate it. 

Part of you wants to walk right over and punch him in his stupid face for doing this to you. For scaring you, for not talking to you, for … for everything. 

A bigger part wants to just hold his hand and cry. A lot. For several hours. And maybe hug him a bit. Let him know how much you care, how much you need him, how you wouldn’t know what to do if he was gone.

You thought for a while that he was gone. That you’d never see him again. It made you wish someone had thought to take pictures earlier. Why didn’t Dave document the whole day? It’s normally impossible to separate him from his camera. 

You couldn’t breathe freely until the doctors told you he’d survive. Then you’d deflated, all at once, collapsing into a chair.

From the moment you found him, you’ve been a livewire. Your nerves have stung, raw and exposed, as you sit and stand ramrod straight. You’d wanted to hug him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch him. You couldn’t look away but you couldn’t touch him. You just stood there, fighting down the bile in your throat, wishing you could just touch him, but you couldn’t, _you couldn’t._

Why did he do this?

It’s been hours now. You’re slumped in this cold, hard, plastic, uncomfortable, absolutely-terrible-in-every-way chair outside his room’s door. Aradia is sitting nearby, but she knows you well enough to know that you can’t handle physical contact right now. You feel like if anyone tried to touch you you’d just start wailing. It feels like you’re about to fall apart, but it’s felt like that since you found him and you’re still here now. 

Some of your friends joined you at the hospital. Aradia called them. You could barely call Aradia. Every time you look at a phone you remember Karkat’s apartment, with its organization system seemingly designed to just piss everyone, including Karkat himself, off. You’ve never understood why he felt the need to purposefully make things harder for himself. 

You wonder if his house phone even has battery power. You wonder why he owns one when he uses his cell phone for practically everything anyway. He takes it out all the time to fiddle with it, typing little notes to himself in all caps. He’d taken it out at dinner to google something to prove something to Egbert. You can’t remember what. He’d put it on the table rather than back in his pocket. It’s not uncommon for him to forget it. It’s not common either, but it’s happened. 

It’s hard to think of what would have happened if he’d remembered it. If you hadn’t been sent after him. If you hadn’t found him. If he’d –

You’re choking on unshed tears again. 

You refuse to cry over him.

He’ll get better. He has to.

The door opens suddenly. You whip around to stare into the mirror shades of one Dave Strider. Dave had elected to stay in the room and watch Karkat. No one else could handle it.

“He’s awake.” You stand up so fast you get a bit of head rush, but that doesn’t stop you from surging forward. You accidentally slam into Kanaya. Neither of you bothers to apologize. 

“I would like to see him,” Kanaya’s voice is rough. You wonder if she’s been crying. You haven’t really been paying attention.

“Me too,” you throw in quickly. Like hell someone’s going before you. You need to see that he’s really okay, now that he’s awake and moving. Maybe … maybe you’ll be okay after that. Maybe you’ll stop feeling like every nerve in your body is dying a painful, stinging death.

“I’m the one who was willing to sit with the kid, I’m getting first dibs. That’s what y’all signed up for when you talked me into sitting with him.” Dave’s slipping a little further into his old Texan accent. You don’t bother to fight him on his demand though. Lord knows being in that room must have been hard. None of you had wanted to sit in there. It was a small, white, clinical room, and Karkat looked so fragile against the sheets. His skin was practically the same shade of bright white as the rest of the room, and he’d looked like he could fade away at any minute. Just close your eyes and poof! He’s gone. You couldn’t stand it for more than 2 minutes. Aradia had tried, but she’d just ended up crying. Kanaya point blank refused. Seeing her cousin like that was just too much. Rose stayed with Kanaya. That had never been in debate. Dave had ended up with the position, and had kept it even after most of the rest of your friends had arrived. You hadn’t really paid attention to who was there and who wasn’t. You’ve been rather busy in your own head.

Dave shuts the door as you and Kanaya turn to one another. 

“I am his family member here. I believe,” she clears her throat. She’s trying really hard to keep it together, but she’s clinging to Rose’s arm so tight it must hurt. “I believe that I am owed first visitation.”

You just stare at her for a minute. Words are hard right now. Your brain isn’t working right. All you can think is that Karkat is there, a thin wall away, and he’s awake and you can see him and oh god you really need to see him.

“Please.” It’s a whisper, because you can’t get your voice higher than that right now. You can’t – until you see him moving again, until you replace the image in your head, all you can picture is blood and deathly pale and so, so still, and you really need to get that out of your head. You really need to replace it with a living, breathing image, an image of a person who is going to get better. 

The pause is tense as hell. Eventually Kanaya tries to speak again.

“Sollux, I –“

“Please.” You’re louder this time, firmer. You swallow hard and realize that your fists are clenched so hard you’re surprised you’re not bleeding. You try to uncurl them, but you find you can’t really.

Kanaya’s torn. You can see it on her face.

“I think Sollux … I think he really, really needs to see Karkat right now.” Aradia has always jumped to support you. Gratitude rushes through you, because words aren’t easy right now and you can barely plead your own case. Aradia’s always helping you out. You owe her so much right now.

“Sollux is the one who found him.” You’re a little surprised to hear Terezi. You didn’t know she was here. It’s even more surprising to hear her supporting you, rather than staking a claim of her own. You’ve never been particularly close with Terezi. 

Kanaya fights with herself for a moment more. “I shall go second then,” she acquiesces, finally. You’d hug her if you could hug anyone right now. Instead you turn sharply toward the room. Dave opens the door quickly. You take a deep breath. Then you follow him in.

It’s worse than you remembered.

His eyes are open, but he’s not looking at you. He’s staring at the ceiling instead. He’s still almost deathly still. Fuck. 

“What’s up with the big powwow out there? You all gonna come in and do a big dance around me? Make it rain?” His voice is rough and a little too loud and it sounds so normal you almost cry. For a moment you’re ridiculously happy, because if you just listen to him talk it’s like nothing happened at all. He’s a little lacking in swearing, but he actually swears less when he’s tired and god you’d miss him if he was gone. You’d miss him so much. 

“Hospital rules. Two at a time. Had to decide who got first.” Your voice has unstuck a bit and words come easier, but you’re by no means back to who you used to be a few hours ago. 

He’s still not looking at you.

“You must be fucking ecstatic then. Duality fetish. Surprised you didn’t come in second just for kicks.” His eyes close again and you hate it. His voice is so normal but his body is so different. Karkat’s always been so full, brimming over with emotions and hatred and life. You’ve never seen him so … so fragile, so weak, so _apathetic_ before. You don’t like it. 

You try to focus on his words instead. They make yours come faster.

“Wow, amazing how you’re still such an asshole.” If you focus on the voice, if you try to make your words normal, if you bring back the banter, maybe it’ll all go back to normal again. Some part of you is glad that despite what’s happened, Karkat is still Karkat. And part of you is worried. Because if this is so small an event that he’s still precisely himself afterwards, what does that say about who he was before? How many clues did you miss?

“Why’d you win first go anyway? Did you call dibs on me? Didn’t know you wanted to see me so bad, fuckass, you shoulda just told me. Don’t worry, the minute I’m out I’ll make an honest man of you.” 

Your words disappear as you remember exactly why you got first visit. For a moment you’re accosted by the image of Karkat surrounded by his own blood again. You find you’re biting your tongue pretty hard without realizing it again.

“We figured he gets first visit, seeing as he’s the one who found you.” Dave answers for you. Karkat visibly cringes. You force yourself to focus on that. Karkat’s concerned for you. He didn’t want you to see that. He’s thinking about you.   
You’re so focused on this repetition in your head that you miss what Karkat says next, but that doesn’t matter. Because you need to ask something, you need to know something, and between just the sound of his voice and the knowledge that he still cares about his friends, you’ve found the courage to just say it. 

“Karkat,” his eyes are still shut and he doesn’t turn his head, but you know you’ve got his attention. “Why’d you do it?” His face tightens as he clenches his eyes further shut. His mouth twitches and you recognize that as one of his stubborn moves. You push further. “Answer me.”

He doesn’t. He won’t. You can tell he won’t. He’s got that look on his face. The one that says ‘Make me, motherfucker’. 

You think about slapping him.

An awkward moment passes.

“We would have understood, you know.” Dave’s quiet, and if your eyes weren’t glued to Karkat you’d turn and stare at him, because he’d been surprisingly calm throughout this whole process, and you’d kind of thought that he hadn’t really cared. That it hadn’t really affected him. But there’s hurt veiled in his words, and you’re forced to reevaluate your opinions. 

You’re glad you didn’t turn and look, because suddenly Karkat’s grinning. And your heart skips a little at the sight, because he’s Karkat and he’s smiling and –

Then he giggles. Like out and out giggles. It’s ridiculously high pitched and it makes your heart stop for all the wrong reasons. He sounds like the creepy little girl in horror movies.

And he doesn’t stop. He just keeps giggling until it turns into this terribly painful sounding laugh, and then his whole body is wracked by these awful, hurtful sobs of laughter, until he’s curled over, his knees bent, just laughing and crying and shaking. You want to hug him but you don’t want to touch him and you have absolutely no idea what to do. You wanted him moving, but now you’d give anything for the stillness again, because that could just be blood loss, but this makes it clear just how broken your best friend is. 

By the time he settles back, slowly and painfully, still hiccupping with laughter and tears, you’re crying too. 

When he gets his breath back, he rests his head back and says, “That shit’s hilarious.” 

You slap him.

It’s loud and painful and in less than a second Dave is holding you back, even though you don’t need to be, but it had the effect you think you wanted. Karkat’s eyes are open and blazing and looking right at you for the first time since you walked into the room. They’re wide and watery and the brightest red you think you’ve ever seen and you know that right now he’s seeing every bit of pain he’s put you through with all of this. You can tell he wants to, but he doesn’t look away. He’s staring you down, because you deserve nothing less than his full attention right now. You’re angrier than you’ve ever been in your whole life. 

Dave lets you go when he realizes you’re not going to hit Karkat again. You take the opportunity to lean down and stare Karkat right in the face. You didn’t think it was possible for his eyes to get wider, but they do.

“Never, _ever_ say anything like that ever again.” You mean it. Karkat has to know exactly how much you all care for him. You’re pretty sure he could call up any one of you, confess to a murder, and all you’d do is help hide the body. He’s a large part of what brought you all together. 

Now he’ll look away and nod and then you’ll hug him and talk about your feelings like complete assholes. That’s what will happen.

That doesn’t happen.

He doesn’t look away, he doesn’t nod, but all the anger goes out of his eyes and he just looks broken. He goes from the fiery little midget that you’ve known since you were five to this shell of a young man you’ve never seen before. 

You can’t deal with this. You don’t know what to do.

You end up turning on your heel and practically running out of the room. You’re breathing harshly when Aradia appears out of nowhere and gives you the hug you expected from Karkat. And suddenly you’re collapsing against her as she leads you back to the worst chair in existence, and you’re crying all the tears you’ve been holding back since you unlocked that door. 

For the first time since you found him, you realize that Karkat might not get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Aradia's kinda with Sollux but not exactly, it's complicated okay?)
> 
> (I have no idea whether this will end up being Sollkat or Davekat.)


	3. when we fiir2t met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I owed you guys something sweet.

_16 years ago_

 

You hate kindergarten. It’s absolutely the worst thing ever. The other kids are idiots. Complete and total morons. They can’t even read at all yet, and they make fun of your lisp, and one of them just came over and pushed you down and then ran away. You wonder if you can just stay at home and learn stuff. Your dad’s a better teacher than this one anyway.

You’re not crying. Crying is for babies, and you’re five and half now and that’s way too old to be a baby and cry.

You’re surprised when a small, pale hand is thrust in front of your face. “Hey, you need help up?” You look up to see a kid from your class. He’s got these freaky red eyes and this white, white hair. You wonder if there’s something wrong with him. “Sorry about that guy. He’s a fucking moron.” You wonder what fucking means.

You reach up and grab his hand. He hauls you up with surprising strength, and then suddenly hugs you. It’s short and quick and a little too tight and kind of just what you needed. 

“What’s your name?” He seems like he’s trying to ignore the fact that he hugged you. You decide to go along with that for his sake. 

“Sollux Captor.” You wince a little as you butcher your first name. It really, really sucks that your name has ‘s’ sounds in it. You wish you could change it, but your mom said no way. You dream about changing it when you’re older though. You’d change it to something cool, so that no one would ever tease you again. You wonder if this kid’ll tease you about your lisp too.

“Cool. I’m Karkat. Karkat Vantas.” He still hasn’t let go of your hand. “But you can call me asshole.” You wonder if he’s mocking you. 

“What does asshole mean?” You sneer at him. If he thinks he can trick you into being his friend and then tease you like this, he’s got another thing coming.

He smiles at you, bright and wide and a little bit dangerous. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Bet I’m older than you.” 

“Not what I meant.”

“Whatever, jerk.” He just smiles, and then he’s hugging you again, and you just don’t understand at all. 

“Let’s be friends.”

“… Okay. Just don’t tease me about my lisp.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

(He does, of course, tease you about it eventually. But not until you’re older and your friendship is secure and you’ve already teased him about his height several times. He’s very careful about when he starts, because he doesn’t want it to be this huge thing. You see right through this, and it’s the next week that you start calling him your best friend.)

He invites you over to his house the very next day. You’ve never been over to someone’s house before. You don’t have very many friends. Or rather, you don’t have any friends. 

Except maybe Karkat.

You ask your dad if you can go. He says okay, but he’s driving you there, and he has to meet Karkat’s mom or dad before you get to stay. You tell Karkat this. He says his dad isn’t home most of the day, but the housekeeper is. She usually looks after him. 

You tell your dad this. He says you should probably just invite Karkat over to your house. Karkat agrees. You go home together on Friday. 

You end up playing Pajama Sam together on your computer. Karkat’s the worst person to play with because he keeps trying to take control. You end up just letting him control the mouse and more watching him play than anything else. He concentrates super hard on the game, which isn’t even that hard. You wonder why he’s so focused. But you’re beginning to learn that he’s just like that about most everything. Karkat cares a lot about almost everything. Nothing is little. When the other kids giggle at you when you walk in, he takes it just as seriously as when that guy tried to bully you again. Karkat punched him in the face. It was awesome. 

“Hey.”

“What!? I’m trying to concentrate here!”

You snort at him. “It’s just a video game. It’s not that big a deal.”

Pain flashes across Karkat’s face for a second, but it’s gone so quickly you think you must have imagined it. “It’s important to me, jackass.” You get the feeling you shouldn’t let your dad hear him say that. You don’t know why though.

“Can I call you KK?’

He freezes for a second, and you’re afraid you’ve overstepped some boundary you didn’t really know about. “Say that again.” His voice sounds weird. You’re not really sure what’s going on.

“I just … I like to call people by initials, and I don’t really like KV, it sounds weird, so I thought-“ And all of a sudden he’s hugging you again and you don’t really know why, but he’s a really great hugger so you just hug him back.

“KK is perfect,” he mumbles into your shoulder. You wonder about this reaction, but KK’s a weird guy. He says words you’ve never heard a lot, and he’s even better at reading and writing than you are. He just knows a lot, and he has strong reactions to everything, so you figure it’s probably just the first time he’s ever been given a nickname. 

You like that you’re his first nickname. He’s your first real friend, so you feel like he owes you some firsts back. 

You’re not his first real friend, he’s got this other guy that he met at church. KK’s family isn’t religious, but his housekeeper is, and she takes him to church every Sunday. He has to get dressed up in a nice shirt and pants and have his hair brushed and he says he hates it because religion is bullshit. That’s another word you don’t know, and he refuses to explain it to you.

(You’re about 10 when you first begin to really understand what Karkat has been saying all these years. It’s kind of mortifying, but mostly you just want to know where he found out about all those interesting curses years ahead of everyone else. He never tells you.)

Finally he lets you go, and turns back to the video game, blushing a little bit. He always acts like the hugs are something silly and embarrassing that he shouldn’t acknowledge he ever did. He’s funny like that. 

You spend the next hour and a half berating his horrible gaming skills. Then he eats dinner with you, your dad, and your older brother. Then your dad drives him home.

You fall asleep happier than you think you’ve ever been.


	4. we're all in this together

You’ll never tell anyone that you cried when you got the call. 

You’ve never been so glad for your shades in your life. Your eyes are certainly red from crying and if anyone saw you’d never live it down. 

They also hide the fact that your eyes never leave him when you’re alone in the room with him. You get why no one else wanted to be. It’s kind of a terrible room, but more importantly it’s hard to look at Karkat. He looks so fragile right now and you just want to curl around him and protect him from the world. But you can’t. For one it’d totally ruin your cool factor, but more importantly he’d freak when he woke up. You’d hold his hand, but you’re worried about moving his wrists at all. He’ll have an impressive set of scars for the rest of his life. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

It was mere hours ago that you were texting him. It’s hard to think about that.

You have to keep your eyes locked on him, because you have to make sure that he’s breathing, because he looks so still and so fragile and you don’t know how you’ll ever leave him alone after this, because he can’t ever do this again, because it’d kill you. 

It’s amazing how many people call Karkat ‘best friend’. Sollux, Gamzee, Terezi, John, Kanaya, Eridan, even Jade at times. 

You call him your best bro. It’s a hard-to-win title that you’ve only ever given to him and John. 

(Sometimes you think you’d like to call him something else.)

You almost flip off the handle when you think you see his breathing stop. But it’s back to normal fairly quickly, and you relax as much as can. 

Logically, you know he’ll be fine. Logically, you know that it’s just some blood loss. Logically, you know that Sollux found him in time. Logically, you know that he got to the hospital in time.

But seriously, fuck logic. You’re so done with logic right now. Logic and you will probably never speak again.

You just really need him to survive this. 

Fuck. You’re crying a little again. You really need to stop that. 

You swipe quickly at your eyes, getting rid of the excess water, and force your focus back on his breathing. It’s calming. He’s pale and still and way too quiet, but he’s breathing, and right now that’s enough. That’s enough to make you unclench your hands and make your eyes stop leaking so much. Because as long as he’s alive, you can deal with the rest. Together, as a group, you’ll lift him out of whatever deep dark hole he’s fallen into, and it’ll be hard, and it’ll take time, but you’ll make him happy again. 

You really need him to be happy again.

An hour passes, and you just stare the whole time at him, keeping an eye on his breathing. Under normal circumstances it’d be hard to see because of your shades, but this room is so bright that things just look normal now. 

It’s because you’re watching him so closely that you notice the signs. His breathing gets shallower, his arm twitches, he frowns a bit. He’s waking up. Oh thank the merciful sky devil, he’s waking up. 

He tries to open his eyes and quickly decides against it. You can sympathize. You share a certain mutation with him, but you got off easy. Karkat’s fucked up his eyes a bit. 

“You’re awake.” You may be slightly overcompensating with the cool kid factor, but it’s probably all or nothing at this point and you’re really not ready to show anyone nothing yet. That shit’s private. Maybe one day, one special person will be anointed by the gods of irony to break down the final barrier and free your fragile, open heart from its confines, but you doubt it. You’re a Strider. You would have escaped if you wanted to.

“Am I dead?” A chill runs down your spine. That’s hope in his voice. Hidden under gruffness and a dry throat, but hope nonetheless. Fuck. This is harder than you’d thought.

“No, but you gave it your best shot.” The important thing is to try and sound normal. You need him to know that this doesn’t change how you feel about him. He’s still your bro. He just needs more support than you ever realized. 

His answer is longwinded and you accidentally tune out most of it. You don’t mean to, but you can’t take your eyes off the way his mouth moves, the way that he twitches his hands periodically, the way that he’s alive and moving and alive. 

You should probably tell everyone else about this. It’s not kind to keep Karkat all to yourself, as much as you want to.

You definitely overcompensate with the cool kid factor in front of the others. You don’t want them all to know what not being able to see Karkat is doing to you. You don’t want them to know how twitchy it’s making you. You do make sure they know that you’re going in first. They don’t even debate it. If they did, you don’t know what you’d do. You still don’t know what you’ll do while you have to leave the room to let others in. Tackle that problem when it arises.  
Kanaya and Sollux are having some kind of stare down. You close the door in case it gets loud. Karkat doesn’t need to see this right now. You probably should have sorted out order before he woke up, so he doesn’t have to know about the infighting. Oh well, too late now.

It doesn’t get loud. It gets quiet and intense instead. That’s worse.

Sollux wins out in the end. 

Karkat’s opened his eyes while you were gone. One of the nurses took his contacts out for him, so it’s back to the bright red you vaguely remember. Normally he wears colored contacts that make his eyes black. You understand that pretty well.

You wonder if the black should have told you something. But Rose wears a lot of black, and she’s never been suicidal. It’s just a fashion choice. You probably shouldn’t read too much into it.

You get the feeling you’re going to read too much into everything from now on.

You can tell Sollux is relieved by the way Karkat’s talking. It just worries you. He’s so blasé about the whole situation. It makes you wonder –

It makes you wonder if he’s tried this before. 

God, what if he’s tried this before?

That’s a bad thought. Don’t think that.

You try to tune back into the conversation. There isn’t much of one. Your breath kind of catches when Karkat makes a joke about marrying Sollux. 

When Sollux can’t answer the question, you do it for him. Karkat winces. For some reason, that makes you feel better. You don’t know why.

You think about telling him that you get firsts because no one else could take sitting in here with him. You wonder what that would do to him, if he’d flinch again, if he’d show more signs of still caring, of still being alive. Or if it’d just hurt him too much.

Sollux changes the topic before you can decide.

“Why’d you do it?”

You already know Karkat won’t answer that. Chances are, Karkat can’t answer that. It’s never just one thing that makes a person suicidal. It’s a whole bunch of things, swirled up in a giant mess of awfulness. It’s self-hatred and depression and life events and brain chemistry and unhappiness and so much more in one giant slurry that life is trying to shove down your throat. 

But Karkat can get through it. You can help him through it, now that you know. 

You just have to keep reminding yourself that it’s not going to be easy. 

“We would have understood, you know.” You mean you would have understood. You, and maybe Terezi, and probably Tavros a bit. Maybe others too. But you would have understood. 

After all, this isn’t the first time a loved one has tried to kill themselves.

Karkat grins at you, and your heart flutters just a little bit. Stop that. Stupid heart. Get back to your job.

It doesn’t.

It stops. 

Because Karkat is giggling this twisted, scary giggle and then he’s laughing and then he’s bent over double, choking out gasping laughs that have you worrying about his lungs. That shit’s got to hurt. And you just want to rub his back until he stops, then give him glass of water and maybe a kiss on the forehead, but he’s shaking so hard you don’t know if touching him would help or hurt. You don’t know if you can help right now. So you just stand next to him, wondering what to do, and end up not doing anything.

He comes out of the fit slowly, his eyes red from crying and his face still stretched in this horrible little smirk. You’re scared. You’re scared for him, and a little bit of him. 

“That shit’s hilarious,” he creaks out, in between little short sharp bursts of quiet laughter and tears.

Sollux slaps him. 

Your first instinct is to fucking punch Sollux in the face because what the hell!? Karkat’s hurting enough as he is, he does not need a bruise on his face as well. 

Instead you just grab Sollux and hold him back in case he tries it again. Your grip is tighter than it needs to be, but not as tight as it could be, and Sollux should count that as a win. 

Turns out he’s calmer than you expected. You let him go, but remain close by in case he gets it into his head to hit Karkat again. No way you’re letting that happen twice.

When he leans in, you wonder if he’s going to spit in Karkat’s face. No way you’re going to be able to stop yourself from whaling on him if that happens. He’ll deserve all the pain you can deliver.

When he tells Karkat to never say anything like that again, you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Sollux is being an idiot if he thinks that Karkat legitimately won’t say that shit again. He’ll probably say it for a while. He’s probably been thinking it for ages. You can’t just order someone to get better. 

Logically, you know that you should cut Sollux some slack. It’s really not fair to him, all this judgment. It wasn’t even twelve hours ago that he found his best friend in a pool of blood. He’s in shock, and he has no idea how to deal with it. Not to mention that he has some issues of his own regarding mental health, and this can’t be good for them. 

But we’ve already established that you and logic are done for good. 

You barely notice Sollux exiting the room, because you’re too focused on how fucking broken Karkat looks. You’ve never seen him so incredibly tired and sad and empty before and you just want to fucking fix it but you can’t. You can’t right now, you know that, but goddammit you want to try so hard.

He doesn’t look at you when you put your hand on his shoulder. He just keeps staring after Sollux.

Shit. 

Before you know it, you’re wrapping your arms around him and holding him as tight as you can. 

Karkat isn’t really very touchy-feely. Terezi told you once that he used to be, back when you were kids, but that he slowly grew out of it. You can count the number of times he’s hugged you on one hand. 

This is the first time you’ve hugged him. 

It’s a little awkward, because you’re bent at this weird angle to reach him on the bed, and you’re kinda worried now that you suck at hugging. He’s not responding, he’s just limp in your arms, and it’s really actually embarrassing. Shit. Fuck, you should probably stop this. This is probably the opposite of what he needs right now, it’s what you need not him, and that’s not fair to him at all, and he’s the one who needs help, and you should probably let go, or at least loosen your grip, no you should just let –

He hugs you back. 

It’s slow and tentative, but he’s hugging you softly. He tilts his head forward to kind of hide it in your neck, and you feel something wet, and you realize he still hasn’t stopped crying. Your heart breaks a little, and your eyes start to water again. 

Karkat will be the death of you.

You stay like that for longer than you should. No one comes in to see him, so no one witnesses your façade break. Just you and him. 

You’re definitely going to have some back pain tomorrow.

Worth it.


	5. WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homestuck is on a hiatus.   
> Crap.  
> I guess I'll have more time to write then?

There are times when you miss them so badly.

Right now is one of them.

Because Dave is wrapped around you and you’re clinging to him, sniveling into his shoulder, and as nice as it is, all you can think is “You’re not my Dave”.

Because he’s not.

Because your Dave would shove you over on the bed to make room for him and never let you go and he’d probably try rapping quietly in your ear, and give you shit for all of this rather than just being so fucking understanding, but by giving you shit, you’d know he was being understanding and god you really miss him.

There’s nothing wrong with this Dave. The one hugging you right now, probably hurting his back doing so. In fact, there’s all kinds of things right with him. He’s never had to deal with dead Daves or fuck around with time or spend three years on a meteor expanding the shitstain that was Can Town or see his Bro die. And that’s wonderful, and it makes you so incredibly happy that while his life has not been easy, it’s been a fucking cakewalk compared to the life he came from. 

But without those memories, he’s not your Dave. He’s a different Dave. He’s the Dave that your Dave never got to be because your Dave lost his planet when he was just thirteen. 

He’s wonderful.

He will always be wonderful.

But he will never be your Dave. 

It’s not that you’re prejudiced against other Daves. It’s just that he looks exactly fucking like your Dave and sometimes you just want to bond over something stupid you used to do together, but he never did it with you and you have to stop yourself and remember that before you freak him out with a “Remember that time I tried to regulate a vacillating relationship like a fucking idiot and got suplexed by you?”. 

You cry harder, because you miss your Dave. You want him back. 

And that’s a terrible thought. Because the only way to get him back would be to make Dave remember, and that would be all kinds of fucked up. You remember, and look how fucked up you are. 

It’s thoughts like these that make you let go of Dave. You’re half afraid that just by touching him you’ll fuck it all up somehow. Plus his back has got to be hurting by now.

He pulls back while you swipe furiously at your face. Stupid tears. You never cry this much, you swear. Another thing left over from your old life. Another habit you never got rid of. 

“Yo, so there’s some people out there who want to see you. I’m gonna step out for a sec, cause, you know, two at a time. Like Noah’s fucking ark, huh?” You don’t look at him. You just lean back and stare at the ceiling again. You wish you could just refuse them all. You want them all to just go home and continue with their lives. Forget about you. You came out wrong and they came out right and they shouldn’t even bother talking to you ever, much less waste hours waiting in a stupid hospital for you to wake up. 

But refusing them would be terrible now that they’ve already done their waiting. So you just shrug a little and let it happen. 

Dave leaves quietly. 

Two new people enter. 

A cool hand clasps yours. Judging by the perfect manicure, it’s probably Kanaya. Which would make the person standing over her Rose. 

You don’t look at them. 

Not when Kanaya starts talking. Not when she stops. Not when she breaks down and cries. Not when Rose goes to slap you upside the head for making Kanaya cry, only to stop herself at the last second. 

When they leave, you just close your eyes. You pretend like you’re asleep again. 

You’re a coward. You know that. You hate that. But you can’t exactly stop it right now.

Someone comes back in the room. 

You think it’s probably Dave.

You think he knows that you’re faking.

He doesn’t say anything about it.

It only takes about 15 minutes for you to really fall back asleep.

 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You’re unusually quiet.”

“…”

“What happened?”

“… How are you still here? How can you still reach me?”

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe this is all your imagination. Maybe it all was just your imagination.”

“Don’t fuck with me. Not today, okay?”

“Something big happened, didn’t it? Normally you engage with my philosophical bull for at least a little while. It’s so cute, seeing you get all wound up.”

“Can you please just answer my fucking question?”

“… I don’t know. I think it has something to do with being a sprite. The game isn’t totally gone, you know. It’s still collapsing in on itself. It’s still here for now. And I guess being a sprite gives me some special powers or some shit.”

“Oh.”

“Not the answer you were looking for?”

“I wanted – I wanted you to be in the dreambubbles. I wanted them to still exist.”

“Tit for tat. What happened?”

“I … I tried to kill myself.”

“… What?”

“I just – I wanted out. I thought – I thought that maybe I could reach the dreambubbles – or some kind of – actually, fuck that, that’s not what I thought at all. Maybe hoped. But I never really believed in it. The universe likes fucking with me too much.”

“You worked so hard to get where you are! To have a new life! To win the game! And you – you – where the fuck was Alpha Dave!? Shouldn’t he have – why didn’t he – fuck! What the fuck Karkat!?”

“I – I just couldn’t anymore. Couldn’t take it. I’m all wrong now. I’m soft and pink and fleshy and my emotions are all different. I don’t feel comfortable in my own body. And I – I’m fucking it up.”

“What?”

“I’m fucking it up for them. I’m doing things based on who they used to be, not based on who they are. I’m – I’m breaking people up and flinching when I shouldn’t and I just want so bad to tell someone, to make them understand, but I can’t, _I can’t_ , because it would be so incredibly selfish and they don’t need to remember all that and but I just – I need someone but I don’t have anyone – and I’m so afraid I’m going to just lose it and make someone – god they don’t need that at all and – “

“Shhhh, deep breaths, shhhhh come on, it’s gonna be okay, it’ll all be okay, it’s hard, I know, but you need to just, to just work through it. You worked so hard to get where you are, you deserve to be happy. Shshshshhhhhh.”

“God, I’m getting your feathers all disgusting.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“… Thanks. For everything.”

“No problem. You’re the only company I get, I’d miss you like hell if you stopped coming by.”

“… The game’s collapsing. What will happen to you when it … when it finishes?”

“… Not sure. Not a clue actually. But that won’t happen for a while, I think. It’s a big game. It’s gonna take ages.”

“Good. I’d – I’d really miss you too.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I can’t – I can’t promise that I won’t – I can’t promise that I won’t try again. I just – I can’t promise that.”

“… I figured.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“He’s not you, you know. He’s not mine either. He’s not bad, but he’s not you.”

“… I know.”

 

When you wake up this time, you’re alone in the room. 

You’re kind of at a loss for what to do. 

There aren’t any books nearby, your cell phone doesn’t appear to be anywhere, and the TV is clearly broken. 

Fuck this is boring.

Are they trying to leave you alone with your thoughts? That is a terrible idea. You hate your thoughts. Your thoughts suck. 

How long are they going to leave you like this?

You’re so bored. 

You sigh the deepest sigh and begin singing “99 bottles of beer on the wall” in your head.

 

Dear god do you hate that song. You hate it so much you would sic Lord English on it and not feel sorry in the slightest. It’s supposed to be fucking easy to sing! It’s supposed to be fucking mindless, you’re not supposed to have to think about it, but you’ve lost count about five times, so now you’ve got all your focus on it, and this is not what you fucking wanted! Goddamn this idiotic, taintchafing, bulgelicking song why the fuck would anyone ever make it who the fuck wrote this song who had this stupid idea and is there any way to double kill them because you’d really like to!

It feels like it’s been hours since you woke up.

You poke the side of your face Sollux slapped. Yup, that’s a bruise. Fun.

Dear god you are so bored.

 

You’re on 75 for the third time (you really suck at keeping count) when the door opens and a nurse walks in. She seems surprised to see you awake.

She adjusts your IV and gives you a new blood bag. She says she’s giving you some more painkiller. You just nod, and thank her when she’s done. 

She asks if you want your friends to know you’re awake.

You shrug. 

She says she’s going to tell them.

“Okay.”

She gives you this pitying look that makes your hackles rise. 

She’s only doing her job, you say to yourself. 

You remember once upon a time the idea of pity made your heart race. You dreamed of your future matesprit, of the beautiful pity you two would share, the most wonderful, pitiful relationship to ever be had. 

But you’re not a troll anymore. And humans … You used to think that humans just were idiots. That they were morons for not being able to understand how pity and hate could be romantic. That it was something these humans were just not educated enough to understand. But you’ve discovered that human emotions and troll emotions are very different things. Pity makes you – it makes you angry now. It feels like being looked down upon. And hate … Hate is different too. Everything is different and strange and _wrong._

You wish – 

This is a bad line of thought. This is not what you want to think about. Not here, where you can’t do anything about it. 

The door opens again. 

That door is obnoxiously loud. You’re reminded how much you hate it.

You glance over to see it’s Sollux. Guilt rushes over you. Fuck.

He sits down on the chair near the bed. Kanaya pulled it over when she wanted to talk to you. God, you were awful to her. You kick yourself over that whole interaction. You should have – you should have not been you.

“How’s your face?” You glance over again to see that he’s not looking at you either.

“I’ve had worse.” You’re pretty sure he’s even given you worse. You fought a lot when he was a kid.

“When we were in high school, I thought about killing myself.” Hello abrupt change of subject. You’re staring at him now, eyes wide in horror. “I hadn’t been diagnosed yet, you know, my bipolar thing. And puberty … well, hormones in general were just fucking me over, you know? And I – I thought a lot about killing myself. I wasn’t happy. Sometimes I felt like – like I’d never been happy. Like I’d never be happy again.” Shit, Sollux, fuck. You grab his hand. You can’t help yourself. “I … I cut a bit, sometimes. Not a lot. Just – just once or twice.” Fuck this is the worst. You – finding you probably made him relive that and – oh god, you wish he’d hit you harder, because you so fucking deserve it. “Do you know why I stopped? Why I never – why I never carried through?” He’s staring at you now, but not at your face. He’s got his eyes locked on your shoulder. “Because every time I thought about it, I – I thought about you. I thought about you defending me in grade school because people were idiots and hated my lisp. I thought about that time you accidentally broke my TV because you got angry at a game and threw the controller at it. I thought about how much I’d miss you if I – if I followed through. And I – I never talked to you about it, because you were fighting with your dad a lot at the time, but I started – whenever I felt like it I’d – I’d just find you and hang out and it was better. Not perfect. But better. And I – I finally told my dad and he took me to see this therapist and I got my medication and I got better. I just – it hurts that you didn’t – that we couldn’t – that you never – “

“It wasn’t about you guys. It wasn’t ever about all of you.” You cut him off. “It’s always been about me. About – I – I’m just wrong. In so many ways. I came out wrong.”

He’s looking at you now, clutching your hand hard too. “You came out wonderful, KK.” You feel like laughing again, because he doesn’t know how wrong he is, but you hold it in. “Why don’t you feel like you can talk to us? We’re always here for you, you have to know that.”

That’s the problem, you want to say. You want, more than anything sometimes, to tell them, but you can’t. You can’t. You’d ruin them. And you don’t want to ruin them. Ever. 

But you can’t say that. So you just look down and cling to Sollux’s hands and try not to cry. You bite your lip to keep from speaking, because you can’t let them find out. You can’t risk them remembering. 

You wish you could tell them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter was written while in Karkat cosplay.
> 
> Also this is the first chapter that made me cry while writing it. I think it's Davesprite. He always makes me sad.


	6. 2iince when can KK draw?

“Well?” He’s just sitting there, his head down, biting his lip, and he’s not answering you. “KK come on! I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me!” He squeezes you hand tighter, but he doesn’t say anything. “Karkat!” Nothing. “You know what? Fuck it. Fuck you! I open up to you and you can’t even return the fucking favor!? Why not!? You can’t trust me!? I can’t – I’m done.” You wrench your hands from his and stomp out of the room.

It took a lot for you to tell him that. It’s probably the only thing you’ve ever kept purposefully secret from him. And he – he – fuck. 

For the first time since you found him, you’re not sad anymore. Not at all. Instead, you’re completely, absolutely livid. And you’re going to do something about all this. Karkat needs help, and if he won’t open up to you willingly, you’ll find another way to figure out what’s going on. 

A bunch of your friends had to go home for a while, to shower and change and sort things out, but there’s some still here. There’s even some that weren’t here before. Including the person you need.

“Hey, Vriska!” She looks up at you, shocked by how angry you sound. “Wanna go on a treasure hunt?” She’s confused. “KK’s not going to open up on his own. I say we go look for something to make him.”

A slow smile spreads across her face. “Sounds fun!” 

“Wait, what are you two doing?” Aradia puts her hand on your shoulder. You shrug it off. You’re not in the mood to be comforted right now.

“We’re gonna go poke through KK’s apartment. See if he’s been hiding anything from us.” 

“What makes you think you’ll even find anything there?” 

“I’ve known KK since he was 5. I’m pretty sure there’ll be something.”

“Guys, I don’t think this is a good idea.” John and Jade are both opposed. Who gives a shit?

“I would like to join you.” Well that’s a surprise. Or, you suppose, not really. Kanaya always did like meddling. 

“The more the merrier, fussyfangs.” Vriska slings an arm around Kanaya, earning a glare from Rose. 

“I’ll be coming too then,” she says as she links arms with Kanaya, staking her claim.

“This is a total invasion of privacy!” Jade’s practically fuming. 

“Do you have a better idea?” You spit out. “KK’s is stubborn as hell, and we can’t help him if we don’t know what’s fucking wrong. If he’s not going to tell us, I’m finding out on my own.” You narrow your eyes and put on your best “Don’t you dare fuck with me” look. You learned it from Karkat. 

In the end, Jade and John back down, though they refuse to condone your behavior either. Terezi, Gamzee, and Feferi also elect to stay behind. You, Vriska, Kanaya, Rose, Eridan, and Aradia agree to meet up at Karkat’s apartment. 

You know Aradia is only coming to keep an eye on you. To make sure you don’t do anything too stupid. You don’t care. You’re pissed as hell and you have a right to know why your best friend decided to kill himself instead of talking to you. And you’ll find out any way you can.

 

The living room, kitchen, and bathroom yield no results. You’d kinda known that would happen, but you hadn’t been ready to see the bedroom again yet. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Aradia’s just trying to help, but she’s pissing you off with how much she’s tiptoeing around everything. You ignore her, steel yourself, and open the door.

After Karkat got to the hospital, Equius had offered to clean up the mess in his room. He’d been the only one strong enough to carry the bloodstained mattress down all the stairs. You’re really grateful he did, because you don’t think you’d be able to take this if he hadn’t. 

Karkat’s room doesn’t actually have a real bed frame. He hasn’t had one since he was thirteen, if you remember correctly. He’d always preferred sleeping low to the ground, with a ton of pillows and blankets and even stuffed animals when you were younger. He’d make it into this big pile and just bury himself in it. It was absolutely adorable when you were kids. The pile would be destroyed by the time he woke up, but he’d make it again every night. He said he couldn’t sleep for very long without it. He could manage naps wherever, but you’d never seen him sleep for longer than an hour without it.

Where his ridiculous amount of pillows used to be, there’s just an empty space. Just more floor. It hurts to look at. So you don’t.

You spot his laptop on his desk across the room. You set about trying to guess his password. Maybe he kept a diary. He’s the kind of guy who would.

Vriska strolls in and begins searching the bookshelves.

Eventually, you’re all in the room. Kanaya is searching the chest of drawers, tut-tutting over the state of some of Karkat’s clothes. Aradia is searching the desk slowly. Eridan is looking through the closet. It’s surprisingly calming, having all of you rifle through his things. It feels almost natural, like this is just a thing you all do. It should feel weird. It should feel awful, invading his space like this. But it just … doesn’t.

Karkat’s password hint is “home”. You try his address, using all caps like you know he does. Doesn’t work. You try his dad’s address. Still doesn’t work. Hrm.

“Look at this!” Eridan’s found something. You leave hacking his computer to go see.

He’s pulled out this plain brown box. It’s full of notebooks, all different shapes and sizes. You spot one that you remember seeing him carry around in middle school. Eridan’s got one out and he’s flipping through it. 

You pick up the one you remember and open it up. It’s full of drawings. You didn’t know Karkat liked to draw. Each journal is dated on the front page. This one apparently lasted him about half of 7th grade. 

You freeze. 

There’s a drawing of you here. 

It’s – It’s not exactly you. You, after all, don’t have gray skin and horns and red and blue eyes. But the face shape is yours, and you just have this feeling that it’s you. 

It’s … It’s actually a familiar image. You’ve seen it since you were a kid.

You’ve dreamed it. 

As long as you can remember, you’ve had these strangely intense dreams. And in them, you were always like this. Gray-skinned, double-horned, with one red and one blue eye. Sometimes your eyes are black and white. Sometimes they’re just black. The dreams are not exactly common. They happen, and they keep happening, but it takes a while in between. Every now and again, you’ll have one. And they’re … they’re incredibly real. Not in the “Feels like everyday life” kind of way, because obviously it doesn’t, but they – they feel real. They’re full of these little tiny details most dreams lack. You can smell and taste and feel the air around you and it feels less like a dream and more like a – like a memory.

You don’t really tell people this. You might have mentioned it to Karkat once, but it definitely wouldn’t have been in detail. Besides, you and Karkat don’t really talk about dreams. That’s more something you’d mention to Aradia. 

You keep flipping through the book. 

There’s more of you. You laughing, you at a computer, you fighting, you – you dying, you blind, you missing all of your teeth, you and Aradia – you put the book down.

Why would Karkat draw this?

“This is quite … odd.” You turn to look at Rose. She’s got another of the journals in her hands, staring at a picture. 

“What?” You’re the only one really listening. Everyone else is … they’re just looking through the journals, with the same sort of almost-horror as you probably were. You wonder if the images in those are just as disturbing as the ones in yours. 

“This is … This is very clearly a picture of me.” She shows you the picture. It’s her, surely, but she’s floating on a dead ogre around a rainbow sea. Odd, but nothing too alarming. “However, this journal is clearly dated from three years before I moved to town.”

“What?”

“If this is correct, Karkat … Karkat drew this before he even met me.”

The world freezes for a moment. 

“In – In this one,” you begin tentatively, “these pictures, I – I’ve seen … similar things.” You swallow. “In my dreams.”

There’s a pause. Everyone is playing attention too.

“Me too.” Vriska’s voice is a little rough. “I’ve – I’ve dreamed some of these. I dreamt – I dreamt a bunch of these.”

“I’ve had … similar dreams.” Rose looks reluctant to talk about them. You wonder if they’re as terrible as yours always were.

“Back when I was a kid more, but yeah, me too.” Eridan’s got his face in his hands. He’s very obviously freaked out.

“I as well.” Kanaya’s just staring at the book in her hands. You wonder what she’s looking at.

“I dreamt like that a lot.” Aradia’s almost sheepish about it, like she should have told you. Maybe she should have. But you didn’t tell her either. You wanted to, sometimes. 

Fuck. What the hell is going on?

 

You put the box of journals in the back of Aradia’s car and drive back to the hospital. The ride is tense. 

You’re still clutching the journal in your hand. You’ve looked through it entirely now. 

There’s one image that’s stuck with you more than the others. It’s you and Aradia. She’s … She’s in this strange building and she’s looking up out of her window at … at you. And you’re there, you’re flying, and she’s looking at you so hopefully, but you – you get the feeling that you hurt her, right after that. That you do something terrible.

It’s a nightmare you’ve had since you were a kid. You never really realized it was Aradia. You didn’t think it was anything but a bad dream. 

Now you’re not so sure. 

And that kills you a little inside

 

You don’t even speak when you get back to the hospital. You just put the box down in front of them and throw them each a journal. It doesn’t take long for them to understand what’s going on. As much as it can be understood.

It’s kind of remarkable how none of you ever really talked to each other about this. You’re a very close-knit group of friends, and yet … Some people told one or two people, but never in detail. 

You’d always felt like it was taboo to tell anyone about this. Like it wouldn’t end well if you did. The dreams were strange and a lot of them were painful and you didn’t like to think or talk about them. It felt … weird. There’s no other word for it. It just felt weird. You think it’s because you could never understand them. You could never understand why they almost felt more real than your life. 

But somehow, without anyone telling him, Karkat had drawn your dreams. He’d drawn everyone’s dreams. How could he have done that? How? 

You get the feeling you’re standing of a precipice, but you don’t know why. And you don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing.

The one thing you do know is that Karkat has the answers. 

 

Once everyone is informed, there isn’t any arguing about what to do next.

You’d expected there would be. You’d expected someone, maybe Dave, maybe Feferi, to fight against confronting Karkat. You’d thought someone would step up to say how fragile Karkat is right now, how it’s not good to confront him about this until he’s more stable. No one did.

You guess everyone wants answers as much as you do. 

You’re all too wound up and confused and suspicious and upset to give a fuck about the two at a time rule. You blatantly ignore it as all fifteen of you march into Karkat’s room. 

He’s going to give you answers whether he likes it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the really nice comments. I've been meaning to thank you guys for a while but I keep forgetting.
> 
> In other news, this chapter is eh.


	7. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT

You know shit is about to go down when they all enter your room at the same time. It takes a lot for Terezi to ignore the rules like that. 

You wonder if they’re going to pin up a sign with “Intervention” written on it in red and try to help you. It’s nice that you can still entertain yourself with these ridiculous thoughts. 

“Karkat, we need to talk to you about something.” Sollux looks much calmer than he was when he stormed out earlier, but you know him well enough to know that it’s not true. There’s something big about to happen, you can feel it, and he’s at the center of it all. “Do you know what this is?’

You freeze at the sight of that notebook in his hands.

You’ve had a lot of terror in your lives. You’ve feared for your life more often than you can count, faced down impossible odds, and seen friends kill each other off. You’d think you’d had the worst of it.

But you don’t think you’ve ever been more terrified than you are right now.

He shouldn’t have that. He shouldn’t be touching that. That’s – that’s so incredibly dangerous and – fuck – fuck – he’s screwing everything up! You’re screwing everything up why did you ever have those why did you ever think it would be a good idea, you should have burned them fuck – HE SHOULDN’T BE TOUCHING THAT!

You’re on him before you realize what you’re doing. The IV has ripped out of your arm and you’re pretty sure you just reopened your wrists, but all you don’t care because all you can think about is getting that poison away from him. You grab at it but he won’t let go so you punch him. Right in the face. You punch and bite and scratch until he starts to loosen his grip, and you try to take your chance, but suddenly everyone else has unfrozen and you’re being hauled off him. You make one last swipe at the notebook but he’s clutching it tight now and your arm movements are restricted by whoever is holding you back. You keep fighting, trying to kick and scratch and claw your way free, but it turns out it’s Equius who’s got you and you never really stood a chance. You do some damage though. You’re bound to, seeing as you’ve been fighting longer than Equius can remember. 

“Karkat – Kar – Karkat calm the fuck down!” And suddenly Jade’s got hold of your ear and she’s tugging at it so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t come off. It’s such a silly way to try to get your to calm down, but it’s so fucking Jade that you do. 

You’ve stopped wriggling around so much, but now you’re breathing hard and every instinct you have screams fight or flight. You try to take a few deep breaths, but it doesn’t help and then you catch sight of the book again and you just can’t.

“Give it back.” Your voice is low and rough and dangerous at the moment and if you were still who you’re supposed to be you’d be hissing. “Give it back! That’s not yours! You shouldn’t be touching that!” Sollux clutches it tighter to his chest and you lose it again. “GIVE IT BACK! IT’S MINE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT – _NO RIGHT_ – TO HAVE THAT, TO LOOK AT IT, TO – IF YOU DON’T FUCKING GIVE IT BACK RIGHT FUCKING NOW I WILL RIP OPEN THE SKY AND SUMMON A MILE LONG RAGE SNAKE TO OBLITERATE YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE, NOOKSUCKING, BULGELICKING, TAINTCHAFING PIECE OF GARBAGE!” You’re kicking and scratching and using old insults that they don’t understand anymore and you may even be crying just a little bit, but they’re tears of rage you swear, not tears of fear. 

Equuis is so surprised he drops you and you take your chance. You dash at Sollux and waste no time punching him hard again, and this time you get the book away and before they even realize what’s happening, you’ve torn it in half. 

Everyone just kind of stares at you as you (manically) tear the book to total shreds. 

The book is completely devastated before long. You’re breathing hard still, and you’re kicking yourself over your freak-out, because there’s no way to play that off, but they’re – they’re safe. And that’s all that matters. They have to be safe. You have to keep them safe.

“Well that was pointlessly dramatic,” Vriska’s voice is trying to be smug, not scared. She’s not accomplishing it. “You know we’ve seen the others, right?”

“Fuck.” You can’t help it. It just slips out of your mouth. And suddenly you’re deflating, curling in on yourself, because you failed, you _failed_ again. You knew it was dangerous to have those, you swore no one would ever see them, you swore you’d keep them away because they were hurtful and scary and your only outlet for the life that still haunted you, the life that you still missed, despite how terrible it was because it was _yours_. You shouldn’t have had them, but you couldn’t help it. You needed that. You learned how to draw because of that. You – if you hadn’t had that you don’t know how you would have even made it this far.

“Karkat,” Kanaya’s voice is soft. She’s scared, you can tell. She’s scared of you. “Karkat, those pictures … We’ve seen them. We’ve all dreamed them. How did you … Why did you draw those?”

Of course you’d known that they’d dreamed them. Sollux had told you, vaguely, when he was younger, and then slowly, a few others had mentioned it along the way. It was how you’d known. It was what had clued you in that you had to be more careful, that other lives could maybe be right there, and all they’d need was a little push and then they’d – they’d remember. Like you. It was what had tempted you, what had started all this, because if you got just one of them to remember, just one person to connect with – but that wasn’t fair. That would never be fair. How could it be fair to ask John to remember his father dying and his planet being destroyed, or to make Eridan remember his attacks, his crimes, or Sollux his virus, or Vriska her problems, or Dave his bro, the other Daves he had to dispose of, or – how could making any of them remember be fair? Or right? It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. These new lives, these new chances, were so fragile. They had to be protected. You had to protect them.

Even if it meant losing yourself.

Even if it meant losing all of them.

“Leave.” Your voice is surprisingly strong. “Leave. Now. And don’t you dare take any of those with you! Leave them here with me, and don’t come back! They’re personal and you – you had no right!”

“Actually, yes, we did.” Jade’s not angry, but she’s determined, and you can already tell this isn’t going to end well for you. “We have a right to know, Karkat. This affects us too.” 

For the first time since they came in the room, you look right at them. 

One by one you go along the line, and you realize that you’re going to lose this argument. They’re confused and scared and curious and there is no way you can keep them from trying to find out more. You can’t stop them. You can’t save them anymore. You’ve fucked it all up so bad, you can’t take it back now. The egg’s been cracked, and nothing will put it back together. 

The only thing to do now is explain, in as little detail as possible, why they can’t keep digging. Why it’s terrible for them to keep digging. 

You take a deep breath. 

You choose your words carefully.

“This is going to sound crazy.”

“We can handle it.” They’re not letting you get away.

“You have to believe me.” 

“We promise.”

“No I mean-“

“Stop stalling and tell us!” Vriska’s never been known for her patience.

“Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away,” you speak slowly and cautiously. They begin to settle down when they realize you’re actually going to tell them. You are very careful to not look at anyone, but instead to stare at the line where the ceiling meets the wall. “There lived a young alien. He was a troll. Trolls had gray skin and fangs and claws and horns. They were a violent race. Their whole society supported and lauded violence and death, and thus trolls were less concerned about – about people dying in general. This troll was named Karkat Vantas, and the story really begins on his 6th wriggling day. Aka his 13th birthday. It was that day that he and his eleven friends decided to play a very important game.” You swallow. You’d like to add in all kinds of commentary, about your stupid nubby horns, about the blood castes, about how much of a fuckass you were. But you need to keep this simple, so you don’t. “Playing the game was an inevitability. They needed to play. But in the course of the game, several people died and their planet was destroyed. It was okay about the dying, because people could be revived. They worked long and hard, and finally won their game. Their prize was a new universe – “

“We played a game and won a new universe? Wait, there’s sixteen of us in total how – “

“Egbert shut up. I don’t want to be explaining this, and I’m going to stop if you interrupt okay, fuckass?”

“Sorry.” He isn’t. At all. You can tell.

You continue on a little louder and more annoyed than before. “Their prize was a new universe that they created, which they were supposed to become the gods of. However, they were stopped before they could claim their prize. See, in their new universe, there was another version of the game. It was played by four humans who managed to spectacularly fuck things up along the way. They fucked things up so bad, they actually managed to prevent the trolls from claiming their prize. They created a boss too powerful for the trolls to beat, and the trolls eventually had to run away. They hid themselves on a meteor, and found a way to talk to the humans that ruined their session. The trolls and the humans became friends of a sort, and the trolls helped the humans find a way to unfuck up their session. They essentially hit a giant reset button, and created a different version of their universe. The trolls and the humans found a way to escape the effects of the reset, and thus managed to travel to the new rebooted session and help the four new human heroes win their game.”

“Wait, now there’s twenty, how does that even-“ Dave claps a hand over John’s mouth. 

“This new session was different, and thus the prize was different. They did not get to be gods over the new universe, but instead all of the trolls and the humans were reborn, to live lives that were significantly better than their old ones. Not great, but a hell of a lot better, believe me. And none of them could remember their old lives. Except one.” You get quieter now. “See, in the game, every player is assigned a title and an aspect. For example, the Heir of Breath. An Heir of Breath has control over the wind. One troll had Blood as his aspect. And Blood … well it’s a weird ass aspect. One thing that it provides, sometimes, is a,” you laugh a little, quiet and breathy and bitter, “a bleeding effect. One life bleeds into the other. So, one troll remembered. And, believe me, remembering all that … It’s not pleasant.”

There’s a pause. They don’t know what to say. 

Time to drive your point home. 

“There is a chance that others can remember.” A few people look up at you hopefully. “This is not a good thing. Remembering sucks, and it provides a lot of – of scars. The lives that the trolls and the humans led was not easy. They lost guardians and friends and sometimes they killed each other off. Some of them went insane. It is dangerous to remember. It would be wise not to try anymore.”

“Why?” It’s quiet and small. You turn your head sharply to stare Nepeta down. “I-I mean, sure, it sounds bad for a while, but we won, didn’t we? And that should make it all better, right? Knowing we won?”

“No. It doesn’t. It doesn’t help anything. Because I know we won, and it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help the nightmares of my friends killing each other off. It doesn’t help the fact that I’ve spent longer in this body than I did in that one, but I still feel wrong in my own skin. It doesn’t help that despite the fact that your friends are all alive and well, you can clearly recall every single fucking thing you did that got them killed. It doesn’t fucking help anything at all.” You’re scaring her, but that’s kind of the point. “Be glad that you don’t remember. Be glad that you don’t have to deal with this kind of shit. In fact, be motherfucking euphoric.”

You can feel their eyes on your skin, but you refuse to look at any of them. You wonder how many of them don’t believe you. You wonder how many of them think you’re nuts but are just waiting till they’re out of the room to say. 

You wonder how many of them will try to go against your advice.

It’s going to be harder now. Keeping them from finding out. Before, it was just you that you had to watch. Now you’ll have to actively guard against all of them. You’ll have to watch everything you say so incredibly closely. You’ll have to burn your journals and delete the shit you have on your computer and curl up in a little ball and not let any of them in again.

It sucks that even though they know now, you’re going to have to lose them. 

You have to lose them to protect them.

“Now give me back my books and leave me the fuck alone.”


	8. WHY DO HUMANS EVEN LEARN THIS?

_14 years ago_

Humans are weird. 

You’ve known this ever since you met them, but you’ve never known it as well as you do right now. Being in a human’s skin gives you a whole new perspective. 

That makes you sound like you’ve skinned a human.

Ew.

You haven’t. 

(You wonder if Nepeta ever would have. You bet she would.)

Speaking of which, Nepeta’s roped you into taking an art class with her after school now. It’s your own fault for mentioning that you didn’t have much to do after school. You either go home to a big empty house, or you go over to Sollux’s for a while. 

At least you managed to trick Sollux into taking the class with you. He’s so bad at art, it’s hilarious. You wonder if that’s a new human thing or if he was like that before too. You never ever saw him draw back when you were trolls, but you bet he would’ve been good at computer art or something just to piss you off. 

It’s weird, having this whole other life in your head. You feel … Everyone treats you like you’re 7, but you’re 24 and that’s weird. It’s weird to be so small and know so much. It’s weird that your age doesn’t correlate to who you are. You feel like it should.

It’s also weird because you can tell that you think differently as a human. It’s apparently not enough to lose all your defenses and become all pink and squishy, your mental ability is impaired too. You think it’ll get better as you get older, but for now it’s what it is and what it is is fucking annoying. At least you’re out of the stage where you couldn’t fucking talk. That was terrible. 

You’re all supposed to be drawing self-portraits, but you – you don’t want to draw yourself as you are now. You kind of hate what you look like. You’re pale as fuck and you’ve got this stupid white hair that your housekeeper won’t let you dye until you’re older and your eyes are weaker than they should be so you have to wear stupid glasses, and on top of that they’re this bright, bright red. They’re the color that your eyes would have turned if you’d had more time, but it never got around to that. So you never got a chance to get used to it and it now just feels like some weird human thing. 

A lot of human things are weird, as you were saying earlier. Like the fact that they have art classes, what a fucking waste of time. Why don’t you teach your kids how to fight, Earthlings? If Alternia had ever tried to conquer you, you would’ve gone down faster than a troll on their matesprit. 

You just don’t really see the point of art. 

Nepeta sure seems to like it though. And you’d like to be friends with her. You didn’t talk to her a whole ton back when you could, because of her roleplaying and kind of awkward flush crush on you. You really regret that. 

You decide that they didn’t say it had to be an accurate self-portrait (Sollux’s certainly isn’t, hard as he’s trying) so you grab a gray colored pencil and get to work. 

You actually get pretty into it along the way. But just cause you’re bored and there’s nothing else to do. 

It takes you about fifteen minutes to get it as good as it’ll go. 

“That’s puretty good, Karkat!”

“You’re supposed to be doing a _self_ -portrait, moron.” 

“Really? Someone should have told you that, because as far as I can tell yours looks more like a scribble than anything else. How the fuck is that supposed to be person?”

“At least I used the right colors, jerk! Yours is all gray and has horns! It looks nothing like you.”

“Wanna know a secret? This is how I actually look. I’m really an alien from a planet called Alternia, and I just wear this human skin suit to fit in with you freaks.”

“Right, because in that scenario we’d be the freaks. Like anyone’d believe your crazy story.” He swipes your drawing to get a better look at it. Maybe, one day, when you’re older, you’ll tell him you were only kind of lying. Maybe, one day, he’ll believe you. 

“You’re the freak in any scenario.” He’s too busy evaluating your art to provide a rebuttal. 

“You know, this actually looks kinda … familiar.” What. “I think … I think I’ve had dreams like this. I mean, you’ve never been in them,” he flushes a little, “but in these dreams I look like this.” What. “Weird, huh?”

You’re sort of numb now, and you don’t have it in you to snatch back the drawing. You’re kind of freaking out a little. 

Sollux has dreams. 

Dreams about – about being a troll. About you and Alternia and the game. 

_Sollux could remember the game._

You’d never even imagined that before, that Sollux might be able to remember. If he could – if he could you’d finally have someone to talk to about it all. You’d finally be able to reminisce and talk about everything that happened –

You’re suddenly hit by the memory of a day long ago. Vriska … Vriska had been a total bitch and had used Sollux to get revenge on Aradia. Sollux had … well, he’d trolled you once it was all over. He’d been a mess. You’d managed to get transportation out to Aradia’s hive and you’d – you’d buried the body for him, and taken him back to his. You’d stayed with him for two months helping him get himself together. He’d been devastated. 

Trolls kill a lot of things, but killing one’s matesprit, particularly when you’re both so young and not yet hardened towards death, is terrible. 

You don’t think Sollux would be able to handle remembering that. 

You think about how you have nightmares five nights out of seven. You think about how you feel so wrong sometimes, in this weird human body. You think about how you miss Alternia so much because even though it was rough it was _yours_ and Earth isn’t and you need _your home_ back. You think about all the guilt that you still carry with you from letting people down. You think about how you don’t connect with people who weren’t your friends from before because there is so incredibly little that you have in common.

You don’t think anyone would be able to handle all that. You can barely keep it together sometimes. 

This is the first time you ever realize that you can’t tell anyone. You can’t let anyone remember. 

You’d always … You’d always sort of imagined that one day, probably far in the future, but one day, you’d sit a friend, or maybe even a significant other, down and just tell them. You’d tell them everything that happened to you. You’d tell them about all your friends that died and the new friends you made and how fucking annoying your ancestor was and everything. And they’d – they’d laugh and cry and hug you and believe you and help you deal with it all. It’d been this little fantasy of yours for … for ages. From the moment you realized you alone remembered the game. 

But if the other person remembered too – if you made them remember – if you triggered their memores …

How could you do that? How could you do that to a friend? 

You realize you’re going to have to be careful now. You’re going to have to watch yourself, so you don’t – so you don’t fuck things up for people. 

If anyone deserves a fresh start, it’s your friends. 

“Give me my drawing back!” You snap at Sollux.

“Geez fine! No need to get mean about it.” He’s unhappy. He doesn’t like being here and he doesn’t like you getting angry with him and he probably doesn’t deserve you getting angry with him, but you suddenly feel like him having that is … is dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

“I think Karkitty just wants to make sure nothing bad happens to his nice drawing!” Nepeta is probably one of the nicest people you know. You sometimes have to remind yourself that she killed things a lot, because it’s easy to forget that she was a real troll. You’re really grateful that you get to be her friend. You wonder if she’d ever remember the game. 

You think about Equuis dying. 

You really hope she won’t.

You consider tearing the drawing up. That’s probably the safest route. But …

It’s not a very good drawing. Certainly not up to Nepeta’s skill. It’s messy and kinda weird looking and the paper is sort of crinkled from you clutching it too tight. 

But it’s yours. 

You made it.

And when you look at it, you feel more of a connection to the silly little drawing than you do to the person you see in the mirror. This little drawing is you. That person … that person is a stranger. 

You smooth the drawing out a bit and put it very carefully into your bag. 

You decide maybe learning how to draw isn’t such a terrible thing. 

You grab another sheet of paper and a pencil and begin to practice. 

 

When you get home, you ask your housekeeper to sign you up for a martial arts class. She’s confused, but says okay. 

You’ve been trying so hard to be human, you feel like you’re losing who you are. You’re losing the troll. You’re turning into this soft, squishy being that could easily screw everything up by being too weak to resist the urge to confess everything to someone. You need to toughen up. You need to stay connected to the person you used to be, the person who had to hide everything or be killed. You need to fear triggering those memories the same way you used to fear being culled. 

You wonder who you would have been if you didn’t remember the game. 

You feel sorry for the kid who was lost because you stayed. He was probably more worthwhile than you. He probably wouldn’t screw things up for everyone.

From then on, you have two after school pastimes: art and fighting. You take art classes with Nepeta for the rest of the year, before you decide that it’s too dangerous to draw in front of her anymore. She’s apparently had the same dreams. From then on you learn from the internet. You hide your drawings away where no one but you can see them. You keep every single one.  
You can’t bear the thought of any of them being destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think you guys understand.  
> I've been writing this fanfiction all day.  
> That wasn't supposed to be a thing.


	9. shit hit the fan man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help this wasn't supposed to take over my life  
> I've written 9 chapters in two days  
> Why am I doing this?  
> Why can't I stop?

You don’t like it, but you have to leave the hospital for a bit.

You have to go home, shower, get new clothes, inform your thousands of followers that you’re taking a hiatus for a while. They’ll probably go nuts while you’re away. It’ll be hilarious. You’ll enjoy the shitstorm when you tune back in.

You also have to call your boss at the club and tell him why you won’t be coming in this weekend. He’s pretty understanding about the whole thing (who wouldn’t be?), so it’s pretty uneventful.

In the end, you’re only gone for about an hour and a half. How much can go wrong in an hour and a half?

Well, apparently Sollux can get fed up with Karkat again and lead a rebellion to invade his personal affects. You really wish you’d been there to punch him when he suggested it. You really owe him a punch to the face by now. You promise yourself you’ll deliver it to him when he gets back. Then you settle yourself down to creepily watch Karkat through the window.

See, Karkat’s room has a window into the hall to make it look less small and depressing. It didn’t work, because the blinds had been drawn since you’d gotten there, so the only way to see in or out of the window was to sort of sit in this one little corner and peak through. 

You’ve been using it to watch him when you can’t be in the room with him.

He’s awake now, he’s been awake for a while probably. 

You’re a huge wimp for not being able to be in the same room when he’s awake. 

You can’t take the way he doesn’t even look at you. You can’t take the way he’s caught between trying so hard to be normal and just withdrawing. You just can’t.

You think he needs to be alone for a while anyway.

You’re no use to him while just seeing him hurts. 

He’s just lying there, staring at the clock. He’s not doing anything at all. It’s just – it’s so unlike him. Karkat isn’t fond of being idle. He likes doing things, he’s always thinking and talking and overcomplicating everything. He never just … lies there.

You wonder if it’s good or bad. Maybe he needs to relax for a while, to just be. Maybe it’ll help him sort himself out. Maybe it’ll help him unwind a little and learn to ask for help. Or, maybe it’ll just keep the same old thoughts spiraling around in his head. Maybe it’ll make him more determined to try again. Maybe it’ll help him succeed. 

That’s a chilling thought. 

You’re about to go in there and talk to him, because even though seeing him like this still hurts, it’s probably the smart thing to do to go in there and just show him that you’re there, when Sollux and his intruders return. 

You can’t wait to punch him.

 

You don’t get to punch him.

Instead of punching him, you’re rifling through one of Karkat’s drawing notebooks that you had no idea he had. That makes you feel guilty. You like art too (though yours is mostly ironic), and it could have been something the two of you could share. Admittedly, his is much better than yours. You wonder if he could teach you some of this. Maybe shock your readers with some actually good art for once to make it clear that you choose the shitty style ironically and then give them some moral superiority when people say you can’t draw. 

You stop when you find a picture of you. 

You’re wearing your trademark shades, but you’re also wearing this ridiculous outfit. It’s bright red and it’s got a cape, which is admittedly pretty awesome, and this gear on its chest and it looks really, really, really familiar. 

You remember mentioning the dreams to Rose once, back when you were maybe thirteen. But all you really mentioned was that you died a lot. You never told her what you were wearing. It seemed like way too much of some kind of opening for her bullshit psychoanalysis. You’d never told her how you died. 

But you very, very clearly remember this outfit. 

And apparently so did Karkat.

You look a little bit closer. 

There’s something written in the gear. 

Actually, it’s in the gear and on your shoe and hidden in a corner of your shades and on the bottom edge of the cape. 

Karkat’s hidden a message all throughout this drawing. 

‘I MISS YOU’

This was drawn just a year ago, as far as you can tell. You and Karkat were already best bros by then. How could he miss you? He had you. He had you right there. 

You get the feeling shit is about to hit the fan. 

 

Turns out you don’t have to punch Sollux. Karkat does it for you. A bunch of times. 

It’s … It’s terrifying to see him fly off the handle. For him, as an afterthought, yes, but mostly for you. You feel as though your best bro is gone in those moments, replaced by this – this savage wild little thing that attacks everything it sees. He doesn’t look human anymore. He looks so incredibly alien and different and you don’t know how to deal with it. Because this must have always been there, this ability to flip the fuck out and slaughter things, simmering somewhere below the surface, you’ve just never seen it before.

You’re scared of him. You’re scared of what he could do.

At least, you are until you see the fear in his eyes. 

And then it hits you all at once. He’s freaking out, he’s acting like this, he probably even tried to kill himself, because of wanting to protect you all in this twisted, disturbing way. He looks at that notebook like it’s about to explode and kill all of you, like it’s incredibly dangerous. 

Whatever those pictures are, they’re a hundred times more important than you thought they were. 

And then you’re just very, very sad for him, because Karkat right now is a cornered animal with no place to run, just trying to protect his kin. But his kin are the ones cornering him. 

You wonder what about that notebook could do more damage than Karkat’s attack on Sollux and Equuis. 

You watch him destroy it, and wonder if the images really meant so little to him. But then you catch his eyes again and you realize that it was just another sacrifice in this mad quest to protect you. That he loved those, but they were too dangerous to be around anymore.

What is so dangerous about those drawings? 

Why does everyone dream those images? 

What the fuck is even going on right now?

And then all of a sudden he goes from this ball of hissing, spitting rage to a slowly collapsing balloon. He curls in on himself again, and you just want to hug him and make him stop looking like that, or maybe poke him and make him go back to being angry. You can literally see the self-hatred written over every inch of his body, and it’s so wrong because he’s so wonderful and you wish he could see that and you want to help him see that. 

It’s probably not healthy to be so fixated on him.

You don’t really care. 

 

The thing is, you don’t even question his story. 

Repeating that, you don’t even question it. Not a bit. It just … It just feels right. It feels true. In the same way that those dreams felt real, this feels true. And you get the feeling that it’s like that for all of you. That you just kind of know. No questioning, no matter how ridiculous the story is, because you just know. 

That’s kind of terrifying. 

You think of all the ‘I MISS YOU’s hidden in that picture. 

You wonder what you used to be to Karkat. 

Only, it’s not really what you used to be, is it? You were him and he’s now you, but there’s a distinction. There’s a line drawn between you and him. You’re not the same person. Karkat missed him, not you. He misses some person you can’t remember being, someone he knew well, someone he saved all kinds of worlds with. 

You wonder how you could ever compete. 

You think about, just maybe, trying to remember. 

“I-I mean, sure, it sounds bad for a while, but we won, didn’t we? And that should make it all better, right? Knowing we won?” Sounds like you’re not the only one who’d like to remember. But that’s a fair point, right? It’s like reading a book. All this sad stuff happens along the way, but it’s okay, because at the end you get a happy ending. Does any of the stuff the not-yous did really matter when here, at the end, you’re all alive and well?

Besides, the whole thing sounds … It sounds fun. Not always, obviously, but it sounds in general like a good story. Like an adventure. Difficulty along the way sure, but excitement and importance too. It sounds like Jake’s dream, honestly. Maybe John’s too. 

Well, you guess it’s all your dreams, technically. You mean, all of you have literally dreamed about this. How funny is that?

“No. It doesn’t. It doesn’t help anything. Because I know we won, and it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help the nightmares of my friends killing each other off.” Oh. Oh, Karkat. “It doesn’t help the fact that I’ve spent longer in this body than I did in that one, but I still feel wrong in my own skin.” God you just want to hug him. You want to cuddle the shit out of him, and tell him how wonderful he is and worship every inch of his body until he loves it as much as you do. … Whoa. Where did that come from? “It doesn’t help that despite the fact that your friends are all alive and well, you can clearly recall every single fucking thing you did that got them killed. It doesn’t fucking help anything at all. Be glad that you don’t remember. Be glad that you don’t have to deal with this kind of shit. In fact, be motherfucking euphoric.” He’s the one talking, but you’re breathing hard by the end of his speech, the urge to hug him becoming physically hard to exist. You’d never thought you’d be much of a touchy-feely guy, but Karkat – Karkat really looks like he needs a hug right now. Fuck. You think you might be tearing up a little bit.

It is so incredibly unfair, what Karkat just described. It is so unfair that Karkat, the kid who sits through Eridan’s whining, and makes Sollux take care of himself during a coding bender, and sits and watches Gamzee whenever he does any hard drug just to make sure he’s safe, and who lets you rap at him despite the fact that he hates it, and who lets Kanaya dress him up any way she wants even though he’d honestly just prefer a sweater and jeans, Karkat, who helped bring you all together and is effectively the center of your group, has to go through all of this. And worse, he’s had to go through all of it alone, with none of you having any kind of an idea. You’d – You’d honestly thought he was happy. Not ecstatic, maybe, but happy. 

He always made you happy. 

“Now give me back my books and leave me the fuck alone.” 

Nope. Fuck that. 

You file out with the rest of them, all slowly shuffling back into the waiting room, but you only do it to get a nurse. He ripped the IV out during the fight, and you’re pretty sure his wrists were bleeding again, so he probably needed new bandages and you really hope he didn’t do bad damage there.

You follow the nurse back into the room.

He starts wiping at his face the moment the door opens.

Your heart breaks a little. 

You sit silently by his bed while the nurse changes the bandages and puts some kind of glue stuff on his wrists. Liquid stiches, she says. She puts the IV back in properly and tells him no more major physical activity at least until he is released. He nods his head slowly. You wonder if he can keep that promise. 

When she leaves, you take his non-IV hand into yours. 

He refuses to look at you.

Fuck. You can literally see him withdrawing further and further into himself. Away from you.

“I saw this one picture.” He’s still not looking at you, but you can tell his attention is back on you. Good. “It was this – this really actually pretty chill pic of me. All artistic and shit. You have got to give me some lessons, dude, would really freak my readers out.” You smirk as he can’t help but roll his eyes and snort a little. He absolutely loathes your comic. It’s hilarious. “But see, this pic, well, it wasn’t really of me, was it?” He freezes. You continue on quickly. “See, all over it was this one little message. It was hidden in all these weird places. Do you know what it said?” You wait to see if he’ll actually answer you. If he remembers drawing it. 

“I miss you.” His voice is low and gruff and so quiet that you almost miss it. 

You kind of feel like kissing him. … Where the hell did that come from? Next time you get a spare moment, you have to sit yourself down and have a long talk about your intentions toward Karkat. Not just anyone can make those kinds of advances on your best bro, after all. 

“Yeah.” Your own voice is kind of choked. “But, see, you knew me when you drew that. We, we were best bros by then. So it – it wasn’t really me, was it?”

He blinks slowly. “No. Not really.” 

You nod your head a little bit. “It was him, yeah?” He squeezes your hand. “I figured. What was he like?”

Karkat smiles a bit, in a sad way. “He was like you. Only sadder.”

“What – what was he to you?”

“He was my best friend. We, uh, well, there wasn’t a ton of downtime during the game, but there was this – this long stretch of it and we – we became bros, I guess, during it. We, we didn’t really have anyone but each other. Everyone else was kinda … busy.”

You wonder how much he’s not telling you. You can tell he’s being really careful with his words, tiptoeing around issues. You don’t really mind right now. Maybe one day you’ll get more out of him. Right now you’re just glad he’s telling you anything at all.

You wonder why he’s telling you anything at all. 

“I guess I don’t really measure up, huh? He was probably some – some great hero or something, right? Saving the universe and all that jazz.” You swallow down a lump in your throat.

“Actually, you measure up pretty well. Pretty sure he would have done anything to have your life. Actually, he did everything he could to get us all these lives.”

“So why’re you so desperate to throw yours away?” It had to be said.

Karkat’s face hardens, and you see now that he’s old beyond his years. That he’s had way more on his shoulders than they were ever built to hold. “Because I’m scared. I’m terrified of messing this up for all of you. For messing up your second chances. And – and because it’s hard. It’s hard when you don’t feel right in your own skin, when you never feel comfortable, when your entire body just feels wrong. It’s hard when you want to reach out to people, when you want to talk to them so badly, but you know you can’t. And I’m … I’m so weak, Dave. I’m so weak and I’m so tired. And I’m going to fuck up, I know it, and it’s going to ruin someone’s life, and I can’t handle that. I can’t. I just wanted – I just wanted it to finally be over. I just wanted to rest for a while.”

He looks at you and his eyes are big and tired and sad and you don’t know what to do. And you’re afraid that this isn’t something you can help with. Because this battle that he’s built up within himself is something he has to learn to deal with, something only he can fix, and as strong as he is, you don’t know if he’s strong enough to win. You wish you could help him, but right now you don’t know how, and you’re suddenly terrified that you might lose him and be unable to do anything about it. 

You don’t know what to do, so you just clutch at his hand tighter.

“Do you need a hug, Karkles?”

He huffs. “No, and don’t call me that.” 

“I think you need a hug.”

“I don’t need a hug!”

“Well maybe I need a hug. Can you give me a hug, Karkitten?”

“Only if you agree to never ever call me that ever again.”

“Okay,” you say, crossing your toes because your fingers are occupied. 

He knows you’re lying. 

He hugs you anyway.

And when you feel him press a small, watery smile to your shoulder, you feel like you’re on top of the world. 

You can help him.

You can.

You just have to try.


	10. thought you hated me at first

_7 years ago_

First day of high school sucks ass. 

And no, it’s not just because you had to get braces over the summer, thus effectively shattering about 15% of your coolkid cred. Coolkids don’t have braces. Their teeth are naturally perfect, as rule. Goddamn your Bro and his irony. You could have had Invisalign. But he just had to torture you with actual fucking braces. Fucking sucks. Maybe you just won’t open your mouth ever. 

Nope. Not possible. 

You’d never be able to make it all day without talking and you know it. Especially not the first day in a new school, where there are all kinds of ironic opportunities ripe for the exploiting. 

It’s gonna be a looooooooong day.

“Hey! Hey Dave!” John’s suddenly tackle hugging you from behind. Like a true coolkid, you don’t even stumble. 

“Egbert.” You incline your head infinitesimally, but you know he catches it. He’s pretty good at sighting your little cues. 

You and John met online ages ago. He’s actually the whole reason you’re in this specific town. Your Bro had to move to Oregon for some work related reason. You’ve learned not to question anything ‘work-related’ because that means ‘puppet-smut related’ and Bro gets going with waaaaaay too much detail for you. When he’d told you, you’d automatically suggested the town where your best bro and his cousin lived. So here you were, starting high school with him. You’d decided to finally skype him a few weeks before you came, so he’d know what you looked like. (That way, if he reacted adversely, you could just hang up and claim bad connection.)

(He didn’t react adversely, of course.)

(He’s John. Why would he?)

“Ready for our first day?” His smile looks like it’s going to crack his face in two.

You do your patented Strider one-shoulder shrug. 

“I’m really looking forward to it! Now that we’re in high school, we finally get to learn interesting stuff!” He’s practically bouncing up and down. 

“Nerd.” 

“Yeah, yeah coolkid.” He’s rolling his eyes at you. “Come on! Let’s go see if our lockers are near each other!” You let him drag you into the school, thinking that maybe things won’t be so bad after all. 

 

You’re hella surprised when some scrawny black haired kid plops down next to John at lunch. But of course, you don’t show it. 

“Oh hey Karkat!” Weird name. “I didn’t think you’d actually take me up!”

“Well then you shouldn’t have invited me, shitstain.” What did he just call John?

Luckily John just laughs it off. “You’d better not let a teacher overhear you talking like that!”

“Like I care.”

“You will when you get detention.” The kid just flips John off.

“Um, hello? John? Maybe you should introduce us?” 

“Oh, right, sorry!” He’s actually rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. It’s like he’s a cartoon character, you swear. “This is my cousin, Jade,” Jade waves hello and smiles, the kid does a little half wave back, “and this is my best friend, Dave!” The kid shoots you a little nod. You remain blank-faced and unimpressed. (Okay, so maybe you don’t like John making new friends. That doesn’t make you a terrible person, right?) “And this is Karkat! He’s in my AP Bio class!” 

“Oh, so you like science then?”

Karkat shifts awkwardly. “Yeah, I – “

“Kaarrrrklles, what aaare you doing over here?” Suddenly there’s a pointy redhead draped all over his back. She’s grinning viciously as she wraps her hands around his middle.

“Fuck, Terezi, get the fuck off me! You know I hate it when you do that!” He’s squirming around, but he’s not actually trying to throw her off. Yet. 

“Do what? Do this?” Her grin widens as she tightens her grip on him.

“Your fucking sharp ass elbows are digging into my legs, do you have any idea how painful that is?” You can literally see all of her teeth now. “Get off!”

“Alright,” she singsongs as she pulls herself off him.

“KK, what the hell?” This skinny kid with glasses seems to be talking to Karkat. “Why are you sitting over here?”

“Maybe because I got fucking invited to, Tholluth.” A+ for mocking the guy with the lisp, doesn’t make you seem like an asshole at all. “Do you know how fucking rare it is for other people to even pretend to like me? Also, we’re finally in high school, maybe I want to fucking expand my horizons, make some new friends for a change!”

“KK you hate change.”

“Past Karkat hated change. Karkat from like, a month ago hated change – “

“A month ago? KK you were complaining an hour ago that – “

“BUT Present Karkat embraces change. He thrives on it.”

“God, you could not be more of an asshole!”

“Want to bet?”

“Boys, boys, calm down. Sollux, stop being so codependent, Karkat, stop being such an ass, and now let’s all sit down and eat something because I’m starving. I call sitting next to the coolkid!” The pointy redhead proceeds to collapse half onto you, half onto the seat next to you. “What’s your name?”

“He’s Dave, and he’d probably appreciate if you didn’t drool all over him, Terezi.” God this girl is all sharp edges. Her shoulders are like knives! Karkat shoots you a look of sympathy. You get the idea he knows all too well how painful this is. “Careful, she likes to lick things that stop paying attention to her.” The girl pokes her tongue out at Karkat, who returns it with a middle finger.

“I guess I’ll go get our food,” the tall guy sighs and stomps off to the other side of the cafeteria. 

“Yeah, so, that’s my friend Sollux, he’s a total douchebag, but hey, you already hang out with one, why not add another to the collection?” Did he just call you a douchebag? “Terezi can introduce herself.”

“Rude.” She pouts a little at him. “I’m Terezi Pyrope, Karkat’s unrequited crush.” 

“Fuck! Stop saying that, you know it’s not true!” Karkat’s bright red blush is staining his cheeks faster than you can blink. Huh. 

“TZ, you have got to be hurting him. Let the fuck go.” The tall kid, Sollux, comes back bearing two trays of the cafeteria special. 

“He hasn’t complained. Tell me coolkid, does this hurt?” You’re a Strider, so you just shrug the shoulder she’s not draped all over. Even if it does hurt a little, you’re not exactly going to complain about having a girl draped all over you. You’re a fourteen-year-old boy.

“KK, aren’t you going to stop her?”

“Hey, if she’s all over him, it means she’s not all over me, which means I may make it home without bruises from her knees for once, so why the fuck would I want to stop her? Continue for all I care! In fact, I should give this jackass a thank you card. It’ll read: Thank You For Being A Total Douche Who Has A Bullshit Coolkid Façade That Attracted The Attention Of My Painful Friend Away From Me, Thus Keeping Me From Having To Endure The Agony That Is Terezi’s Bone Structure.”

“That’s a long card, Karkat. Where’re you gonna find one like that?”

“Fuck, I’ll order it custom, this is such a special occasion!” 

“Gee kid, we just met. I’m not sure I’m ready for all this loving that’s going on right now. You’re cute and all, but you’re not really my type.”

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, FUCK you. Third of all, learn to tell the difference between someone hitting on you and someone practically throwing their friend at you. That’ll be an important skill later in life, because you will always be the ugly friend that the attractive people try to foist their friends onto so that they can date each other. Lastly, seriously, fuck you.”

“I feel like you’re sending me some mixed messages here, ‘Karkles’.”

“Call me that again and die.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Acutally, that’s a fucking – mph!” Sollux or whatever he’s called has clapped his hand over Karkat’s mouth. 

“Please shut up, KK, I’m trying to eat here. And of course it’s a fucking threat, KK never means anything he says.” Sollux jumps a little, then turns his head towards Karkat. “Did you just lick me? Fuck, do you really think that’s gonna make me let go? I hang out with TZ, KK, that’s not going to – ow!”

Sollux yanks his hand away from Karkat’s mouth. 

“Did you just fucking bite me!?”

“That’s what you fucking get for putting your greasy, smelly, unsanitary hand near my mouth, fuckass!”

“KK that fucking hurt!”

“That was the point, asshole!”

“Ugh, KK, fine, whatever. Just shut up and let me eat in peace, alright?”

“… Fine.” 

Things quiet down after that, though you’re beginning to learn that quiet isn’t much of an option with Karkat. 

Turns out you and Karkat have the same class (World History) next. He walks with you to your next class, and sits right next to you. You’re a little confused, because you’re pretty sure he hates you. 

“So, what, you’re just full of hot air like your friend said? Thought you thought I was a dick.”

“I do. But lots of my friends are dicks, and I’m a total asshole, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t be friends with you too.” 

Well.

Can’t argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for comments and compliments and kudos and bookmarks and reading this guys ^-^


	11. let'2 hug iit out

“Hey.” For the first time since he got here, he actually looks at you as you enter the room. 

“… Hey.” 

You don’t really enter the room. You sort of just stand by the door awkwardly for a while. 

You don’t really know where you stand with Karkat right now. You kind of expect him to be pissed at you. Like really pissed at you. You’d feel more comfortable if he was pissed and yelling at you, because that’s Karkat’s default. That’s been his default the entire time you’ve known him. He’s made an art out of pissing people off. 

Now, all of a sudden, he’s quiet and withdrawn and you know it’s not just around you. You’ve stolen Dave’s little peeping chair (yeah, you knew that was what he was doing, he wasn’t subtle about it at all, bastard thinks he’s so smooth, ha) and watched Karkat with everyone. Everyone’s had things to ask him, things they dreamed about, and you can literally see him holding himself back from telling them the whole truth. He’s stopped being so brash and rude and started watching everything he says. He’s not him anymore. 

You miss him. 

But you don’t know how to talk about that. 

(Strider apparently does. He’s the only person that Karkat acts chummy with now. It’s kind of pissing you off.)

(You are absolutely not jealous.)

(Shut up.)

“Did I kill Aradia?” You can’t help but blurt that out. It’s been bothering you, ever since you found out about the game. You … You think you did. You think you killed Aradia and you have absolutely no idea why. Why would you ever do that? 

Karkat’s fists clench around his sheets. He’s watching you carefully, like he’s afraid you’re about to break down, and you have no idea why. When he finally speaks, it’s slow and cautious. “Not really. When Aradia died, you were … a weapon. Being used by … by someone else to get revenge.” A chill runs down your spine. “But it’s alright. Aradia got revived during the game. And before that she was a ghost, and then a robot.” This game sounds weird as hell. 

“This someone,” Karkat flinches, “were they – they were one of us, huh?”

“No.” It’s too fast and too harsh to be true. 

“You’re lying.” 

“God fucking damn it, Sollux, can’t you just leave well enough alone?” 

“Is that what you were trying to do?” He freezes. “By killing yourself? Is that what you were trying to do?” 

He’s not looking at you anymore. “Without me … if I … I’m the last real link to the game. To the past. I’m … I’m dangerous. For a whole bunch of reasons.”

“Because you’ve been shaping us, right?” That got his attention. “I’ve been thinking it over. I … Remember when we met? We were like five, and I don’t remember much, but I do remember you asking me to call you this weird word. I thought – it had s’s in it, so I thought you were making fun of me. It nearly made me not be friends with you.” Karkat bites his lip. “You asked me to call you asshole. Is that what I used to call you? Before?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. You’d call me asshole, I’d call you douchebag, we’d – we’d do pretty much what we do now. Insult each other until both or one of us regrets it and we acknowledge that we’re actually friends for some weird reason.” 

“You gathered us all up, didn’t you? You – you brought us all together. All of us from the game, making sure that we’d be friends in this world too.”

“I didn’t – I just missed you! I missed all of you! I wasn’t trying – I didn’t force you to be friends.”

“But you knew we would. Who knows who we would have been, who our friends would have been, if you had left us alone.”

“… You’re right. You’re – you’re absolutely right. This is why … This is why I’m dangerous, Soll. I could tear things apart so easily. I could – “

You’re crossing the room in long strides, grabbing his face and making him look at you. “Thank you.”

“Wha?”

“Thank. You. For everything. For bringing us together. I have no clue who I would be without you, and I don’t care. I like who I am. I like my friends. I like knowing that even if things went wrong before, I got a second chance. And I owe everything to you.” You kiss him hard on the forehead. He’s totally at a loss for words, and it’s fucking hilarious. You ignore the chair next to his bed and make him shove his legs over so you can sit down on the edge. “So when the fuck did you learn how to draw?”

He looks so utterly flabbergasted, you grin to yourself. He snorts a little and composes himself. “The internet. And, uh, remember that art class Nepeta made us take?”

“You mean the art class Nepeta made you take. You made me take it, not her. Don’t foist that disaster on Nepeta. That’s not fair.”

“Oh please. You would have taken it because I was anyway.”

“Uh-huh. And people call me the codependent one.”

“You are the codependent one, douche.”

“Says the guy who literally beat death to bring his friends back together.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that an offer?”

He huffs and crosses his arms, clearly refusing to continue this conversation. 

You two sit in silence for a little bit. 

“Holy fuck this room is boring.”

“You think!? I’m the one who’s been stuck in here for ages. You didn’t even give me my cell phone, jackass.”

“You could have asked for it literally at any time.”

“Yeah, let’s evaluate the options for asking for it. There was when everyone was still in a state of shock and prone to fucking hitting me – “

“Oh like you didn’t deserve it. I’m surprised you didn’t break my nose with your little freak out back there.”

“You would have deserved it for going through my personal shit!”

“By the way, I know we’ve talked about this before, but seriously, what even is your organization system? We found measuring spoons in the bathroom. Why? Just why, KK?”

“Fuck you, I will organize my shit any fucking way I please. You are not the boss of me, you have literally zero control over my life, I am an adult and I get to make my own fucking life choices.”

“Yes KK, because everything about you just screams ‘adult’. Especially your height.”

“That was your worst fucking jab at my height yet, you nooksniffing jackass.”

“Do those insults come from when we were trolls?” He freezes. Damn. This had been going so well. Why did you say that? Why? 

“Who ever said you were a troll anyway?”

“KK, seriously, you don’t think anyone’s going to fall for that? We all had dreams, about ourselves. We know if we were trolls or humans.”

“Egbert didn’t seem to.”

“Egbert’s the worst fucking moron I’ve ever met, of course he didn’t put two and two together.” He rolls his eyes again. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, alright! Happy?”

“So what’s a nook?”

“OH MY GOD NO. I AM NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION.”

“Oh, so it’s something dirty, huh?”

“Out. Out of my fucking room. Right now. Go. I hate you.” He buries his face in his arms. 

You laugh at him. It’s the first time you’ve really laughed in days. 

He’s still hiding his burning face in his arms, but he’s not insisting that you leave, so you’re perfectly comfortable staying right where you are. 

God, he’s the most adorable thing you think you’ve ever seen.

You’ve thought about him a lot, these past two days. You’ve thought about losing him, about what you’d miss, and about what you’d regret. You’ve known him practically forever, and you’ve always been … sort of oblivious to how you feel about him. You have a lot of issues, a lot of drama in your life, and you’d always viewed him as this imperfectly perfect little rock in your life. You never really questioned it. He was your best friend. You’d been too busy trying to figure out if FF was hitting on you or just being herself, if you hated ED or liked him, and if you and AA should get back together or if it was best to just stay friends. You’ve been distracted, and you’d sort of taken KK for granted. After nearly losing him, you’re determined not to do that anymore. 

You’ve noticed that you know all these little things about him. Like exactly how if you embarrass him enough, his blush will spread across his shoulders and down his chest a bit. And when he tilts his head sideways and glares at you, it looks like he thinks you’re a fucking idiot, but it really means that he’s thinking over what you said. And how he has a tendency to bite his lip viciously while concentrating on something, so much so that he sometimes breaks skin and then gets pissed while he bleeds everywhere. You know the way his hands move when he’s actually annoyed as compared to when he’s excited about explaining something. You know that he’s got a sweet tooth almost as big as he is (not that that’s very big), but he hates cake for no real reason at all. (He loves the frosting though.) You know that he’s got no resistance to spice, but he can eat super sour warheads no problem. You know what his tongue feels like against your skin, how amazing he is at hugging, and how you are the perfect height to rest your chin on top of his head.

You don’t really know when you acquired all of this information and more. You just kind of absorbed it along the way, without really thinking about it. But now that you do, you realize you want to know more. So much more. And you’re going to find out. 

“So I don’t have your phone.”

“Of course you don’t. That would be too fucking kind, wouldn’t it?”

“But, I do have mine. Wanna watch me play Angry Birds for a while?”

“Fuck that noise. Hand it over and let me play Fruit Ninja.”

“I don’t have Fruit Ninja.”

“Like hell you don’t.”

“I seriously don’t.”

“I will fucking download it then.”

“You have to let me watch.”

“There is literally no comfortable way for me to play that game and let you watch.”

“Sure there is. Watch.” You hop off the bed and shove him further down. He’s caught off guard and sort of falls forward a bit, giving you just enough room to slide yourself behind him. Your legs are on either side of his, and you throw your phone in front of him before wrapping your arms around his stomach. You make sure to poke him in the side to make him squeak along the way. Adorable. 

“What is with everybody being so fucking cuddly all of a sudden? Seriously! It’s like you and Dave can’t keep your fucking hands off me!” Your eye twitches a little at the mention of Dave. You and he aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. He’s still mad at you for god knows what reason, and you don’t like the way he’s suddenly all over KK. Which is a little hypocritical, but you’ve known KK longer, you have dibs. Okay, so maybe it’s not really that sudden. You’re pretty sure they were fairly touchy feely before, you just didn’t pay as much attention. But now that you are, it pisses you off. KK’s yours. He should back off. 

“So does this hospital have wifi or are you stealing some of mine?”

“The fact that you don’t already have this on your phone is a travesty of epic proportions. I am doing you nothing but a very noble favor, downloading this game and teaching you how to play. It will be well worth the money and wifi. So calm your fucking tits.”

“You’re buying the paid version? Seriously?”

“Okay, now it’s time for Sollux to shut up so Karkat can play his fucking game.”

“Technically it’s my fucking game.”

“What did I just say?”

“Fine.” You rest your chin on his shoulder and settle in to watch him slice up some fruit. You think this game is way too asinine and stupid, but Karkat adores it for some reason. He gets really into it, and you notice he’s biting his lip again, only letting it go periodically to curse when he cuts a bomb. You tighten your arms and pull him a little closer to you. He doesn’t seem to notice. 

You stay like that for a long while. He’s warm and surprisingly cuddly once he settles in, and despite being in a hospital for several days now, he still smells really nice. 

Just about everything about him is really nice. 

Except maybe his vocabulary. 

But, still. 

You’re pretty sure you’re just a little bit in love with Karkat Vantas.

Scratch that. You're damned sure you're in love with Karkat Vantas. 

Yay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at all the Sollkat I've been building up to! Look at it! Loooooooook!


	12. WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?

You’re really bad at not talking. You’ve known this for a while. Probably forever, actually. You can’t help it, it seems to be in your basic being, something that you and your ancestor unfortunately have in common. You like to monologue, coming up with long winded, confusing, disgusting metaphors on the spot has been a talent of yours since you first learned how to talk. Basically, once you learned how to speak semi-coherently, you never shut up. Once upon a time, your few remaining friends had made fun of you for it, joked about how the only way you could shut up was by not breathing at all. (You really hadn’t known any other way. Fuck you talked a lot.) 

But it’s never hit you harder than now. 

You thought very little could be harder than keeping watch on yourself to keep from saying too much. You’d spent most of this life doing it, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

You like to talk.

You want to talk. 

It was very difficult to stop yourself.

Turns out, it’s even harder when people are specifically asking you about the stuff you really want to but can't talk about. 

It’s like telling Aranea she can’t tell stories anymore and then dressing her up in a storyteller costume and throwing her to the savage, merciless beasts that are the demanding piles of snot and shit this planet calls wrigglers. 

It’s fucking unfair is what it is. 

You blame Dave. He was the one to make you cave and come out with more information first. Fuck Dave. Seriously. Coming at you all gentle questions and barely hidden self-esteem problems and puppy eyes. You wouldn’t think Dave could make puppy eyes, hidden behind his shades, but he managed it somehow. 

It probably wasn’t his fault he hit all the right buttons. Probably didn’t even know what he was doing. 

You could see it, right from the moment he started talking about it, that he was comparing himself to your Dave. That he didn’t think he – that he thought your Dave was better. He thought your Dave was this hero, someone you’d always compare him to, and he’d always fall short. That’s kind of a theme with Daves. And you’d needed to make sure that this Dave didn’t fall into the great big dark hole that Davesprite spent so long fighting his way out of. There isn’t anything wrong with this Dave. You like this Dave. Sometimes (often), yes, you do miss your Dave (so fucking much), but that’s … that’s like missing a friend who’s died. It doesn’t make the friends you have left any less valuable. Usually, it makes them more so. 

So you’d opened up. More than you should have. He hit you weak points directly. What could you do? The answer to that is you can hate yourself and keep others from hitting them. You can refuse to tell Eridan why he has nightmares about chainsaws. You can keep you face gash shut when Gamzee asks you why the rainbow dreams make him cry. You can look away John why dreams about cake make him wake up in a rage. 

And when they all keep pushing, you can give them terse, incomplete answers that satisfy and scare them enough to stop them from looking. You can tell Eridan that he had a bad experience (he must know that someone killed him with one, you know he knows, but you’re not going to tell him who), Gamzee that troll blood was different colors (but not that he’s the one who made it spill, let him think he just witnessed death, not caused it), and John that Betty Crocker was a waterbitch in the game (he thinks you’re joking, because seriously, some things are just really fucking ridiculous). 

You think they’re slowly learning not to ask. 

Good. 

You’re learning not to answer. 

You find yourself clinging to Dave when he’s there. He isn’t always, because now they’re back to respecting the two at a time rule (like the nurses even noticed when you broke it), but when he is, he plops right down into the chair next to your bed, and lets you grab his hand, and just talks to you. He tells you how he’s been checking up on his fans, and how they’re going crazy during the hiatus that he’s imposed, tells you how he should do this again, because the results are fucking hilarious. You banter back and forth and you feel like you again. You and Dave get to be _you and Dave_ again, and it’s nice. Nicer than ever before, in a way, with no threat of a new session, with less secrets between you. Before … before all this, you’d felt like you’d been distancing yourselves. He’d spent less time with you, and you thought it was because – because there were moments where you had to shut yourself off, because you couldn’t let him see that you were longing for someone who no longer existed. Now … it’s not perfect. But he knows now, that when you close yourself off, it’s not because of him. And it’s helped. Maybe the nicest thing of all, is that he knows not to pry. He knows right now that you can’t take that, that you need some time, and maybe he’ll pry more later, but right now he’s the only one leaving you alone about it and you are _so grateful._

You just get to be with him. 

You get to relax.

You’re the exact opposite of relaxed when Sollux steps in. He hovers by the door, looking unsure as to whether or not he should just bolt. 

He’s going to ask something. 

You watch him carefully. Sollux has known you longest here. He knows all your bullshit tactics. He’ll be harder to throw off than the rest. You’ll have to be extra careful.

“Did I kill Aradia?” Fuck. Just – seriously – fuck. Fuck that question. Why would he ask that question? Why couldn’t he ask about all the times he died or the fucking mind honey or anything but that? Hell you would have taken him asking about Eridan killing him over this. You really would.

You have to approach this carefully. Sollux … Sollux seems stable, but he’s never been. You thought maybe in this world more so, but after his confession not too long ago, you’re not too sure. Fuck. You can’t bullshit him. You know Sollux, the minute you bullshit him, he’s going to go find another fucking way to find out and then he’ll probably find out all the wrong stuff and spiral into depression and – fuck. Okay. You have to tell him. Go about it delicately. And for fuck’s sake, don’t just start with any variation of the word ‘yes’. He will bolt. You’ve seen it happen.

“Not really.” Okay, good beginning. “When Aradia died, you were,” fuck what’s a good word, involved is too ambiguous, there is just a blatant lie, how can you make it clear that his agency was taken away, “a weapon.” Good okay. Going well so far. “Being used by,” fuck shit you’re pausing you shouldn’t be pausing he’ll get suspicious, “by someone else to get revenge. But it’s alright. Aradia got revived during the game. And before that she was a ghost, and then a robot.” You quickly splutter out the rest of the explanation, and pray that he doesn’t ask the question you’re pretty sure is coming next. 

“This someone,” FUCK, “were they – they were one of us, huh?”

“No.” Don’t ask more question, seriously, this is not a good road, just shut up Sollux, just shut your stupid face.

“You’re lying.” **FUCK.**

“God fucking damn it, Sollux, can’t you just leave well enough alone?” And now your mouth has gotten away from you again, great, now he’ll just keep fucking pushing because he absolutely delights in annoying, god damn it why are you even fucking friends again, you swear, he is the most annoying –

“Is that what you were trying to do?” Okay, that was not where you expected that to go at all. “By killing yourself? Is that what you were trying to do?” Yes. 

Yes, of course.

But you can’t say that. You need to – for once in your life, you should try to put this delicately, because this situation is a bomb and you really don’t need any more explosions in your life. “Without me … if I … I’m the last real link to the game. To the past. I’m … I’m dangerous. For a whole bunch of reasons.” Smooth, Vantas. Very smooth. 

“Because you’ve been shaping us, right?” What? Fuck. FUCK. “I’ve been thinking it over. I … Remember when we met? We were like five, and I don’t remember much, but I do remember you asking me to call you this weird word. I thought – it had s’s in it, so I thought you were making fun of me. It nearly made me not be friends with you. You asked me to call you asshole. Is that what I used to call you? Before?” Fuck you with a rusty spike. Fuck you with ten billion rusty spikes. Okay, there’s gotta be some way to save this. Right? 

Choose your words carefully, Vantas. “Yeah. You’d call me asshole, I’d call you douchebag, we’d – we’d do pretty much what we do now. Insult each other until both or one of us regrets it and we acknowledge that we’re actually friends for some weird reason.” Okay, framing it in context of how you act now works, that’s no new information right? No harm done, you’ll move on and -

“You gathered us all up, didn’t you? You – you brought us all together. All of us from the game, making sure that we’d be friends in this world too.” Fuck. He’s not letting this go. He’s standing there, stern, serious, brooding, intense, and you’re … you’re a little afraid of what he’s going to do to you. You manipulated his life, people tend not to take that well. But you didn’t really do that, right? You – you completely didn’t.

“I didn’t – I just missed you! I missed all of you! I wasn’t trying – I didn’t force you to be friends.” All you’d done was introduce them. It wasn’t like you’d forced them together! It wasn’t like you’d told them to become friends. It just – it just happened. You weren’t trying to make them all buddy buddy, you just wanted your friends back and it isn’t your fault that the rest of them followed along like little fucking ducks who’d mistaken you for their mother when their real mother was back at the fucking lake and they should go find her and stop following you because you have no fucking idea where you’re going.

“But you knew we would. Who knows who we would have been, who our friends would have been, if you had left us alone.” … Fuck. Of course that’s what you did. Isn’t that what you’ve been kicking yourself over? Isn’t it shit like that that made you want to kill yourself? Because you couldn’t stop yourself from messing with their lives. Because you … because you couldn’t let go of who they used to be. So you tried to make them into that. You’re absolutely disgusting. Manipulating people like that – it’s disgusting. 

“… You’re right. You’re – you’re absolutely right. This is why … This is why I’m dangerous, Soll. I could tear things apart so easily. I could – “ You’re babbling a bit and maybe tearing up and fuck you’ve cried more in these past few days than in the entirety of your past life and why the fuck is he grabbing your face, when the fuck did he get over here, is he going to kiss you what is even happening right now?

He’s suddenly appeared right next to you and he’s grabbed either side of your face and it really looks like he’s about to kiss you right now, what the fuck is happening? You – a minute ago he was pissed, what the fuck is happening right now?

“Thank you.” 

“Wha?” Oh, super intelligent, Vantas, you win all the prizes. 

And then he’s thanking you and telling you how happy he is about his life, how glad he is that he met all these people, and you’ve never thought about it that way, not really, even when you were trying not to blame yourself for things, it was always just that it hadn’t been your fault that they became friends, not that their lives were better for it, you’d just always assumed that their lives would have been better the less interaction with you they had, and whoa okay now he’s practically crushing his lips to your forehead and it feels … surprisingly nice. What? 

And then all of a sudden it’s banter between you two like you haven’t had since before this whole mess. (Has it really only been a couple days? It feels like a week or more.) And he’s just acting so fucking normal, and it’s really, really nice. 

You’d missed Sollux. 

And then somehow without you even noticing you almost get onto a conversation about intimate troll anatomy and you shut that down so fucking hard the tremors from the door to that conversation slamming shut could be felt in motherfucking China. Worst earthquake in the history of forever started by Karkat Vantas slamming a door on a troll sex talk with his best friend. Millions die. 

And now you’re leaning back against him a little as you concentrate on your favorite mindless game. You love Fruit Ninja. It’s ridiculously satisfying for such a simple game. There’s no fucking strategy, just mindless slaughter of innocent fruit. You fucking love it. 

(You’re maybe a bit worse than usual though because Sollux is hugging you and resting his chin on your shoulder and it feels really nice and you have no idea what is going on but he’s pleasantly warm and you’re really trying not to overthink it.)

That’s right about when Dave walks in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People keep being like "Sollkat and Davekat sdljkjkdjkdfkjdf is it {Insert preferred ship here]?"  
> And I'm liked "FUCKED IF I KNOW!" [laughs while falling down the staircase of writing fanfic addiction]


	13. you feeling chinese?

Okay.

Karkat’s cuddling with Sollux. 

Like really cuddling. Like Sollux is wrapped around him from behind. (That is not meant to sound dirty.)

Okay. 

You can deal with this. It’s a little weird, yeah, and you wouldn’t be as … freaked out isn’t the word because you’re not. You’re just kind of … shocked, maybe? (Remember, once upon a time you had actual control of the English language? Practically mastery of it. Good to know you’re moving nowhere but up, Strider.) 

(That’s a lie, as great as your raps are, you’ve always had some stumbles. You just hid it behind your poker face. You’re lying to yourself Strider, good job.)

Anyway, you’d be less … or rather, you’d be more … okay? Still not right. Fuck it, you’d be more okay if it wasn’t Sollux he was cuddling with. Jade, John, Terezi (though that would probably hurt), Nepeta, hell, basically everyone but Sollux was wide open for a cuddle. Gamzee! Why couldn’t he snuggle up to Gamzee instead? He’s literally right out there in the waiting room, ripe for some a serious cuddle session. Why did it have to be Sollux?

It’s not that you don’t like Sollux – 

Actually, that’s exactly it. You don’t like Sollux. You don’t like the fact that Karkat still has a bruise from him, you don’t like the fact that he blatantly invaded Karkat’s personal stuff and expected everyone to be okay with that, and you don’t like the way he acts like Karkat owes him everything. Like he owns Karkat. 

Fuck that. 

But, as much as you dislike him, Karkat’s allowed to do whatever he wants. He’s allowed to hang out with people you think are – dangerous. 

(And you’re allowed to quietly, later, when Sollux has left the room, like you know he will, express your concern.)

(You’re also allowed to get yours snuggles on too, now that you know Karkat’s okay with that.)

(Shit, you’re really looking forward to that.)

So instead of saying anything, you just plop down in the chair near the bed and lean over to see what Karkat’s playing. 

“Bro, no offense, but you suck at Fruit Ninja. You suck at Fruit Ninja hard.” Sollux very clearly doesn’t like you invading his personal space so much, but fuck what he thinks.

“You do realize that saying ‘no offense’ does not, in fact, actually absolve you of offending me? Wow, shocker of the century! I’m sure you’re sitting there just reveling in this new, unequivocally life changing knowledge! You don’t know how you’ll go on! Don’t worry fuckface, I’ll help you. Off a building.” I’d like to fuck your face. It’s really not fair that he leaves these openings for you. It’s just so freaking tempting. But you let it go for now. This one’s a freebie, Karkitten, appreciate that.

“Dude, no way, that’s the rules. I say no offense, you are legally bound not to take offense. There was a whole law passed about it and everything, so that politicians could say whatever they wanted and no one could give them any shit about it.”

“You’re so full of shit, Strider.”

“Nah, brah, I’m full of the worst hospital food ever. How do you even stomach that crap? Shit, we should send someone out for Chinese or something. I’m feeling Chinese, you feeling Chinese?”

“Okay, never, EVER, say ‘brah’ again. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. Scratch that, I think my brain has ordered my whole body to fucking self-destruct because it cannot stand that I know someone who actually fucking says that. My stomach was just the first sacrifice. The others are next.”

“So you aren’t feeling Chinese?”

“Only if we get those cold sesame peanut butter noodle things.”

“Dude, why the fuck wouldn’t we get those? Those are like, half the reason to get Chinese.”

“And pork dumplings.”

“No problemo. Anything else?”

“Chicken with broccoli. And don’t any of you dare try to share, I’ve been surviving off that crappy food longer than you.” You’re totally gonna try to steal some of his food the entire meal. That shit’s funny, man. “Soll, you want anything?" Ugh you wanted to sit there and blatantly not share food with Sollux. Piss him off as much as he pisses you off. 

“I’ll just steal some of yours, KK.”

“Hahahahaha you’re hilarious. What the fuck did I just say about that not happening? Get your own.”

“Sesame chicken?” His jaw is clenched and he’s really very obviously upset that he has to talk to you. Feeling is mutual, asshole. 

You nod and Yelp a nearby place. Actually looks pretty good. You step out into the hall to make the call. 

“Okay, Chinese is on its way.”

“Whoop-de-fucking-do. Does your phone have any better games than this douchebag’s? Cause his games suck.”

“My games rock, KK, you just suck at them.”

“I thought you were slicing the fuck out of some fruit.”

“I got bored.”

“You got bored playing Fruit Ninja! Nope. Not possible. You’re lying. Gotta be.”

“I’ve been playing for like an hour. Yeah, it gets fucking boring. Get over it.”

“You’ve been playing for like half an hour KK.”

“Can I just fucking switch games without it being a gigantic thing!? Most of these games are crap, they’re only meant to be played for short little intervals before the person playing realizes that they actually are just sitting there pretending to slice up fruit with a shitty ninja sword!”

“I just got Plants vs. Zombies.”

“Give it.”

“Sooo demanding, Mr. Vantas!”

“Give. It.”

“I think you should give me something first.”

“I’m giving you the chance to give your phone to me before I take it.”

“Hmmmm …… no, something else.”

“Jesus fuck – FINE WHAT?”

“How about,” you pause, pretending to not to know what you want, “a kiss?”

Sollux looks like he’s choking on his tongue. Ha! Asshole deserves it.

Karkat just rolls his eyes and motions for you to bend down. You do, but you stay up just a little, so that he has to put his arms around your neck and pull himself up a bit to reach. 

His lips press gently against your cheek, warm and dry and really, really nice. 

“Awww yea, Karkitty kisses are the best.” He’s blushing as he takes a swing at you, but you step back too fast for him to make contact.

“KK, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Sollux is pissed. Good. He extricates himself from behind Karkat with more than a little difficulty.

“Make sure you’re back in time for food.” Karkat reminds him as he walks out. 

You wait until you’re pretty sure he can’t hear before you start asking about him.

“So. What’s up with Captor?”

“What do you mean what’s up with Captor?” 

“Don’t be dense on purpose, bro, that’s my thing. And you know how much I hate people touching my things.”

Karkat puts down your phone and turns to face you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning in a little. “Sollux … Look, he’s just …” He wrinkles his nose while he thinks. You resist the urge to kiss his nose. Or maybe nuzzle it with yours. Or hell, why not both? Yeah, those are the urges you’re resisting. “He was a troll, okay?”

“What does that have to do with shit?”

“Trolls … we … Trolls are different from humans. The brain chemistry was all different. And we – or at least I know I do – we that used to be trolls have some … some qualities left over.”

“Come on, give me the deets.” Yeah, what qualities do you have left over? Anything I should be concerned about? Anything dirty? 

Bad brain. Stay on target.

“Like – like possessiveness.” Okay, that’s kind of hot, the image of Karkat being all possessive over you. Hot. (As long as it doesn’t go too far.) “And … instability.” Oh. “And probably some – some violence issues.” Oh. 

You’re quieter now. “So, that freakout you had…”

His eyes are shut now. “Yeah. Like that.”

Shit. 

Now the moods completely ruined. 

Karkat’s still got his eyes shut, and his face is screwed up a little bit, his nose still wrinkled, like he’s bracing himself for your response. His hands are clutching at the blanket again and he’s sort of half turned to face you, half turned away. He’s biting the side of his bottom lip in a way that makes you unable to stop staring.

You really want to kiss him.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean down and sort of nip at the tip of his nose. His eyes and mouth fly open in shock, but you’re already leaning back, staring him down with your infamous poker face.

“Did you just bite my nose!?” He’s spluttering, and blushing a little. He’s adorable.

“Want me to kiss it better?” You raise a single eyebrow.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” And now he’s leaning back, sort of like he’s trying to escape, which means you have to. 

You grab the sides of his face to hold him still and he’s still kind of sputtering as you lean in. You, very gently and slowly, giving him time to really protest and stop you, lean in and press your lips against the spot you nipped earlier. He shuts up the moment your lips touch skin. When you lean back, his face is bright red. 

He recovers fairly quickly, wiping at his nose in irritation. “You’re so fucking gross, why the fuck would you even do that?” You shrug a little and he rolls his eyes at you before picking up your phone again.

His blush hasn’t faded by the time Sollux gets back. It earns you a glare from Sollux behind Karkat’s back. 

You count that as an added bonus.

 

“STOP TRYING TO STEAL MY FOOD!” Karkat’s practically hissing as he guards his food from your wandering fork. 

You can’t use chopsticks. It’s the embarrassment of your existence. Karkat and Sollux are maneuvering no problem, but you have to use a fork. Fucking embarrassing.

“Bro, you can’t hog the dumplings. That’s so not cool, dude.”

“If you wanted dumplings, you should have fucking ordered dumplings.”

“I did order dumplings. I ordered those dumplings.”

“Be glad that I’m sharing the sesame noodles, asshole.”

“Sharing? We ordered two things of that, you took one and made me and Captor share the other. In what universe is that sharing.”

“In this one, fuckass. I could have taken both of them.”

“How are you not like a million pounds?”

“Black magic.”

“Not surprised.”

“Keep that fork away from my dumplings!”

“Dude I just want one! Just fucking give me one!”

“No!” He’s shoved one in his mouth now, trying to eat them fast enough that you won’t get one. Luckily for you, he forgot how hot they still were. While he’s distracted by the pain in his mouth, you snag one for yourself. Dumplings are the shit, man. 

“I hate you.” His tongue is burned and he’s sulking.

“Love you too, bro.” 

Captor is mysteriously silent throughout the whole meal.

 

Karkat is very obviously sleepy after his big meal. He tries to stay up and play more games, but you and Captor manage to convince him to take a nap. He’s out like a light in less than a minute. 

Captor absconds quickly once Karkat passes out. You’re glad. 

You settle in to scroll through tumblr on your phone and watch Karkat sleep. 

You’re not a creep. Shut up.

 

It’s been about two hours of Karkat sleeping peacefully when he starts twitching in his sleep. 

When you say Karkat is sleeping peacefully, you mean that he is asleep and his face looks peaceful. The rest of him does not. He usually writhes about and ends up in all kinds of weird positions. Sometimes you take pictures to show him how ridiculous he looks. 

But this isn’t normal. He’s twitching and kicking out a little bit and his face is suddenly twisted up. 

You wonder what he’s dreaming about. 

Then it starts getting violent. 

You’re embarrassed that it takes you so long to figure out he’s having a nightmare.

You’re shaking his shoulders to wake him up, when he tries to lash out at you with his fingernails. Only he misses, like he expected them to be longer or something.

And then he’s completely awake and shoving you away and curling up in a ball, shoving his hands into his hair and feeling around like he’s looking for something. 

You walk over cautiously and try to put a stop to it, because it looks like it’s starting to get vicious. 

“Don’t touch me!” His voice is rough and he’s glaring at you and snapping his teeth and growling a little bit. You’re reminded of when he attacked Sollux and you choose to back away quickly. He looks like a feral animal.

He curls in further on himself and clutches his head. He’s shaking pretty badly, but you don’t dare go near him for fear of your hand being bitten off. 

He stays like that for about fifteen minutes. You spend fifteen minutes terrified for him. (And a little of him.)

When he finally relaxes, you see his fingers have blood on them from digging into his scalp too hard, and he’s bitten his lip hard enough to break skin. 

You remember what he said about the troll-kids being unstable. 

Fuck.


	14. two man fiight club

It’s official. 

You hate Dave Strider. 

You hate everything about him.

But most of all, you hate how KK likes him. You hate that he takes KK’s attention away, that he gets these little kisses from him with no effort whatsoever (which means they’d done stuff like that before and fuck do you hate that), and you absolutely hate that you are so obviously late to the game. 

And what the fuck did he do while you were out of the room to make KK blush like that!? 

You’re sulking out in the waiting room while fucking Strider sits and watches KK sleep again. Creep. He’s a bigger creep than ED. Hell, he’s a bigger creep than ED’s brother!

“Okay, Sollux, this has to stop.” TZ’s sunk down into the chair next to you. “It was funny at first, but now it’s just sad.”

“Leave me alone.” It is perfectly reasonable to be sulking when there’s a guy creepily watching the biggest crush of your life sleep.

(As annoyed as you are, it’s still a bit of a rush to admit, even just to yourself, that you have a crush on KK. Now that you’ve finally figured that out, you almost feel like shouting it to the heavens.)

(Saying it as many times as you can in your head will have to do.)

“Stoooop suuuuulllking,” TZ whines as she throws herself into your lap, thus disrupting your perfect sulking stance. “Sollux, you’re 22 years old now. Don’t you think it’s about time you learned to share?”

“Sharing sucks.” 

“Of course it does!” TZ’s grin never fails to freak you out a bit. She looks like a crocodile. “Anyone who says differently is teaching small children. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have to.”

You huff a little and cross your arms, enjoying that this shoves your elbow into her face. 

“Look, Sollux, I’ve been friends with you and Karkat for a long time. A looooooong time. You really think the rest of us were as dense as you were?” You freeze for a second. Were you really that obvious? “And as cute as a little possessiveness can be, you have to understand that Karkat can do whatever he wants. He can hang out with whoever he wants to hang out with.” Suddenly she’s forcing her way up and digging her nails into your cheeks so you have to look at her. “You. Don’t. Own. Him. Get. The Fuck. Over it.” 

“But it’s haaaaaaarrrdd.” You can’t really help whining. You know you’re being an idiot, but when are you not? 

“So are relationships. If you don’t want to wreck your chances right out of the gate, learn how to share Karkat with others. Because there’s a fuck lot of people that love him, in a whole bunch of ways.”

The two of you have a staring contest for a couple minutes. You end up blinking first. No one can beat TZ in a staring contest. It’s like she never needs to close her eyes. (Also she usually cheats.) 

“Fine,” you huff. “Wouldn’t have expected you to be on my side though. What, you still hoping to get back with Strider?”

“Nope!” Her grin gets creepier, if that’s possible. “I’m hoping for a threesome.” You nearly choke on your tongue. “A bunch of us are, actually.” You literally shove her off of you.

“Ugh, TZ, that’s so fucking gross!”

“No, that’s hot.” She waggles her eyebrows at you.

“I think I just threw up in my mouth just by thinking about sex with Strider.”

“I can’t wait to tell the others you’ve thought about sex with Dave!”

“We seriously need to branch out more. We’re way too involved in each other’s lives.”

“We wouldn’t be us if we weren’t! Besides, this whole past life thing means we are literally destined to be forever intertwined!”

“That’s not what that means at all.”

She rolls her eyes at you. “You should go talk things over with Dave while you can.”

“Fuck no.”

“You just agreed to share.”

“Not in that way!”

“Go talk to him or I start reciting the fanfiction Nepeta’s been writing about her new OT3.”

“You’re evil.”

“Do as you queen commands.”

“Like fuck you’re the queen. FF’s the queen. You’re like a creepy attack lawyer.”

“Go!”

“Fine! Fine, I’m fucking going!” TZ just cackles as you head to KK’s room. 

You’re kind of still expecting him to be asleep. Instead, he’s sort of curled in on himself in the middle of the bed, looking a little freaked out and – holy shit, is that blood on his hands?

You’re across the room as fast as you can be, but then as you reach out to touch him he suddenly goes rigid. 

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ” He’s hissing and snapping his teeth at you and he looks like a feral animal. 

He looks like he did right before he started to beat you down.

Where the fuck is Strider?

You glance behind you to see Strider practically backed up against the wall. He’s clearly freaked out as shit by this. 

You look back at Karkat to see him digging his hands into his head. You can see some blood matted into his hair, and you know that’s how the blood got on his hands. He’s already bit through his lip but he’s still biting it and fuck that’s got to hurt. 

You reach your hand out to him again, only to have him seriously try to bite you. His eyes lock onto yours and you realize he’s not scared. That’s what had worried you, him being scared as fuck and not letting anyone help him, but he’s just pissed. 

Good. Pissed you can deal with. 

You smirk as you shove your hand into his hair and ruffle it. 

And then he’s on you again, biting and scratching and punching and kicking and it hurts, yeah, because KK is surprisingly strong for such a little guy, but you two used to fight all the time, so you know his tactics. You know how to dodge his more serious blows, and you even throw a few of your own at him. Not fighting back just makes him madder. And you two are just on the ground now, fighting and scuffling and generally laying into one another. 

You’ve fought like this before. Most of your friendship involves the two of you pissing each other off, and honestly you start it more often than not. In that you verbally provoke him until he has really no choice but to throw a punch. 

Besides, it’s kind of nice to work out some aggression on him too. 

The first time you fought like this, KK felt so guilty afterwards that he punched himself in the face to make sure he had a black eye to match yours. Then he made sure to clean your ‘battle wounds’ up and bandage them properly. Once he realized that you were provoking the fights on purpose, he stopped injuring himself on purpose afterwards. But he kept up with the aftercare. 

Normally he pulls his punches a little, seeing as you’re just this scrawny guy with no formal training and he’s like a blackbelt or something, so you’re really lucky he’s too frenzied to do strategy or you’d be in some pretty big trouble, because he’s definitely not holding back now. 

He calms down slowly, his struggling getting less and less intense until he finally just slumps against you with his teeth buried in your shoulder. You’re breathing harshly and you’ll have some fist shaped bruises on your stomach, but it’s actually probably less than you usually come away with. He’ll probably have some bruises himself, but at least no one broke skin this time. 

You push him off you gently, twisting yourself into a crouching position. He’s still kind of limp and out of it, so you worm one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees and lift him up. You put him on the bed as gently as you can, and then lie down next to him. The bed’s only supposed to be for one person, so it basically forces him to cuddle into your side, and you see absolutely no problem with that. 

You’re blatantly ignoring Strider, which he totally deserves for being completely useless in this scenario, and you see absolutely no problem with that either. 

He comes out of his weirdly sleepy state slightly. “Sollux?” You hum an affirmation into his hair. “Did I beat you up again?” He’s quiet and a little bit guilty and you smile into his hair as you nod. “Did you deserve it?”

“Probably a little. Don’t worry, I got my shots in too.”

“Okay. Sorry.” His head droops back down to resting against your chest. 

“When you wake up more, we’re going to have to talk about that.”

“Ugh. I hate talking about things.”

“You’re the worst liar ever.”

“Yeah. Imma sleep some more now.”

“Okay.” You give him a little kiss on the crown of his head, managing to dodge the blood still in his hair, and he cuddles a little closer as he swiftly falls back asleep. For the moment, despite the bruises and the blood, you’re incredibly happy. 

There are two reasons that won’t last long. One, KK will only stay still for about five minutes, if you’re lucky, and two, Strider is still in the room, and he’s not happy with the current situation at all. 

“So. The fuck was that?” He’s still standing on the other side of the room. You shrug. “You and Karkat try to kill each other often?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you seriously think Karkat’s rage issues stop in the verbal realm? We sometimes beat the shit out of each other. It happens.” He quirks one eyebrow. “If you can’t handle a few freakouts, you can’t handle KK. He’s a fighter. He always has been. Sometimes he needs to blow off some steam, and sometimes I do too. It doesn’t stop us being friends.”

“Wait, are you a two person fight club?” You roll your eyes.

“You’d think you’d get this. Don’t you strife with your Bro all the time?”

“For training. Totally different.”

“Yeah. Right.” You can practically feel the sarcasm dripping off your tongue. “Look, let me just say one thing. If your response to KK wanting a fight is to cower like a frightened little girl, you two will never work out.”

“And you provoking fights and beating the shit out of each other is commonly called an abusive relationship.” You’re pretty sure he’s glaring at you through his shades. 

You’re about to retort when feel KK’s head lift a little to glare at the both of you. “Will you two shut up? I’m trying to sleep.”

You try to find it in you to care that KK now almost definitely knows that both you and Strider are pursuing him. But as he pulls himself closer to you and nuzzles his face into your chest, you just can’t find any fucks to give. Eh. He was going to find out sooner or later, if he didn’t already know. 

So you just smirk and hold him a little tighter. 

Later, you’ll worry over the strategy of winning him over. Later, you’ll worry about sitting him down and making him tell you why he had that little freak out. Later, you’ll worry about a whole bunch of things. 

For now you’re just enjoying yourself.

Until, of course, Karkat gets all wriggly and smacks his head into your collarbone and starts trying to bite you. You swear, it’s more dangerous to cuddle with him than TZ, and you’re pretty sure she actually gave a guy a cut with one of her knees once. 

Still worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if I can't promise exactly what pairing will win out (Davekat, SollKat, DaveKatLux), I can promise you this:  
> Either everyone will be relatively happy.  
> Or no one will.


	15. I JUST CAN'T

The nightmares do not come every night. They used to. When you were young, they used to wake you up most nights, a strangled scream caught in your lungs and your racing heart beating in every inch of your body. Often the memories they brought had you running to the load gaper to empty your stomach. 

Trolls and humans were built differently. The two species were perhaps unsurprisingly similar, given that the trolls created the humans, but their basic brain chemistry was fundamentally different. You know that now. The two species literally do not experience emotion the same way. While as a troll you mourned for your fallen friends, but it was not the same as this. Once the event itself was over, once Kanaya had stopped Eridan and you had calmed Gamzee, you were sad, yes. You were despondent, even. But you weren’t traumatized. Trolls couldn’t be. Their whole lives were destined to be filled with death of friends, with pain and killing, and with sadness for a short time, but not for long. You had to move on. You had to survive. 

Humans worked differently. For humans, the things you saw … they couldn’t handle them. Sometimes you couldn’t handle them. Humans couldn’t just move on, apparently. So the dreams replayed the killings, the terror, over and over in your mind, and eventually you had to find a way to control it. And at around 4 sweeps old, you discovered lucid dreaming. You learned how to control your dreams, twist them away from the murder and the slaughter to the things you actually wanted to remember and relive. So you spent your nights re-becoming friends with your Dave, reliving the good moments in the game, meeting Jack for the first time, trolling John, and just generally happy. You have come to love sleep.

But it doesn’t always work. Sometimes you fail. So sometimes you find yourself reliving Bec Noir’s destruction of Prospit, or Gamzee and Eridan slaughtering people on the meteor, or the very end of the game. Those days you usually wake up more troll than human. 

Humans don’t get sleep rage. But you’re not completely human, not really. So, sometimes, your worthless think pan tries. 

It’s a poor approximation of sleep rage. Sleep rage evolved as a way for trolls to defend themselves against those who would try to kill them while they slept. (It was a fairly common phenomenon.) Anyone invading your space was a threat and would be treated as such, unless they were in one of your quadrants. But unlike human rage, it actually cut down the background noise, helped you focus on the fight, the strategy. It made you a better fighter. This pitiful attempt by your human brain just muddled you into attacking anything that dared come close to you. No strategy, just brawling with whomever it was. It made you worse. And it left you feeling drained and exhausted. So basically it sucked. 

It was still, however, better than the times you woke up from the nightmares more human than troll. Those days … those days you didn’t dare go back to sleep after. 

God you’re a mess. 

A part of you wants to blame Dave and Sollux for what happened, but you know it’s not really their fault. You should have been more careful. You’d just been so warm and … and happy. Really, really happy for the first time in ages. And you’d forgotten to go through the steps to get into lucid dreaming. You’d just fallen asleep. And left yourself wide open to all the nightmares. 

You’re getting dangerously open in front of them. You have to watch yourself.

You don’t remember much from the sleep rage. But you remember enough. You remember Dave’s mere presence pissing you right the fuck off, you remember searching for your horns to try to stimulate an endorphin rush to calm yourself down (because you can’t remember that you’re human now that you’re not a troll that your skin should be that color that it’s not some disguise you can tear off that you try to tear off as you claw yourself bloody), and ending up digging your nails into your own scalp to keep from lashing out. You remember Dave trying to come closer, you remember the fear in his eyes when he saw you. You remember Sollux – oh god you remember Sollux deciding to be your punching bag yet again when he shouldn’t have to. You remember … you remember thinking you were going to kill him. 

It’s very lucky that human sleep rage makes you a worse fighter. Otherwise, you might have carried that through. 

You remember slowly coming out of it to find yourself on the floor on top of Sollux, exhausted and unable to stand. You remember him holding you while you slept. And you remember him fighting with Dave. Over you.

It’s not really much of a surprise. It’s was hard not to notice Dave’s advances even before you – before you tried to kill yourself. They’ve only gotten more blatant since then. And really, Sollux is like the least subtle person in the world, with his little cuddling shtick. Please. John could have spotted it. 

The thing is …

The thing is _you can’t._

You _can’t_ do that. 

It’s not that you wouldn’t like to. Though choosing would be hard as fuck and the whole thing would have to be handled very delicately. But you’d like to. God you’d really like to.

But you’ve already very clearly seen what happens when you leave yourself too open. 

And for a successful relationship, you’d have to be so much more open.

It’s not something you’ve ever been able to acknowledge before. You’re the sappiest piece of shit you know, and you’d always dreamed of – of a relationship with someone. Once upon a time you dreamed of filling your quadrants. You had it all planned out, how you’d be the perfect matesprit, kismesis, moirail, maybe even auspitice. You’d lived little fantasies in your head about your perfect, ideal relationships. You’d know all the right moves to make, all the right things to say. Then the game had happened, and, well, your options became pretty limited. So, you’d – explored human romance. You’d researched, refined your idea of it, understood that it was so much more than just the flushed quadrant. For a while there, you’d dreamed of that, with your Dave maybe. In that world, you’d have had a chance. 

But here you don’t. And it’s high time you admit it to yourself. 

You’re not a troll anymore, but you’re not quite human either. You’re dangerous and painful and you could end up doing something you really regret. 

You know that there is every chance you could seriously hurt your partner. 

So it’s not an option. 

You’re too unstable for any of it. 

It’d been so easy to pretend, yesterday, that you were okay. It’d been so easy to just slip back into who you used to be. It’d been so easy to think you were in the hospital for something completely different, for an accident. 

It’d been ridiculously easy to pretend that you weren’t broken. 

But that’s just silly. Because you are. 

You wonder, sometimes, if you could be fixed. You wonder if someone could help fix you. You know you don’t deserve it, but you think about it sometimes. You hope for it sometimes. 

But whoever tried would be in incredible danger. It wouldn’t be worth it. 

You know you’ll have to tell them, when you finally admit that you’re awake, that you can’t do this. You’re not looking forward to it. 

Maybe you can pretend to be asleep a little longer.

Apparently not, considering someone’s shaking you awake. “Kid. Wake up.” Shit. “Kid I know you’re awake.” Fuck. 

“Then stop fucking shaking me.” 

“No, I think you need some fucking sense shaken into you.” You grit your teeth and go as rigid as possible. “Kid you damn well better look at me when I am speaking to you.” You sigh and open your eyes to glare at him. He stops shaking you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey Jack.” Your words are caught between tired and venomous. 

“So. What the fuck is this?”

“I don’t know, what the fuck does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re a fucking moron is what it looks like.”

“Thanks for your concern, Dad, good job taking three days to come visit your own fucking son in the hospital. Father of year, you are.” He looks like he’s going to stab you. He’s done it before. 

“We had a job, kid, couldn’t come running back just because you got a little sad, now could we?”

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is an accurate summary of my entire childhood. Why couldn’t you just send Ms. Paint instead? She’s the one who practically raised me, and she’s way fucking nicer than you.”

“Oh, I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t take time out of my busy schedule providing for you to coddle you. My fucking bad. Luckily, you didn’t need me there to turn into a huge pussy.”

“You know, maybe if you had showed me just one ounce of affection, sometime in my entire childhood, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” 

“Maybe if you had allowed it instead of getting all pissy any time I tried to do something nice for you, I’d have tried harder!”

“Do something nice? The only time we ever spent together was when you were either trying to get me to stab things, or when you were trying to stab me!”

“I only did that once, and you know it was a fucking accident!”

“Three times! You did it three times! And why the fuck would you give a knife to a four year old!?”

“You were fucking advanced for your age in practically everything else, how was I supposed to know you’d fuck that simple shit up!?”

“Maybe because I was fucking four! I didn’t have fine motor controls, I was four-fucking-years-old! You don’t give four-year-olds knives! You just don’t do it!”

“It is not my fucking fault you suck at knives!”

“Aradia’s dad never made these mistakes, so why the fuck did you!? You’re a terrible father!”

“Well you’re a terrible son!”

And then you hug him and he hugs back because neither of you really meant that. You haven’t meant stuff like that since he stopped trying to talk you into taking control of the Midnight Crew. 

He’s a terrible hugger. It’s not exactly something he does often, and he doesn’t like the fact that he’s only a little bit taller than you now, because both of you are pretty short, so he sort of shoves your face downward into his shoulder which hurts like hell, and then puts his sharp chin on your head, which also kind of hurts. You think he doesn’t know how to be soft, he’s always been sharp angles and anger and hatred, and you’re okay with that. So you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him tight and ignore the pain because this happens so rarely that you really should just try to appreciate it. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, kid,” he mumbles into your hair. 

You know if you speak your voice will betray you and he’ll know that you’re lying, so you just nod a little and let him live in this delusion where you’re going to be okay. No need to deprive him of that. 

The hug ends pretty abruptly because he’s fed up with being affectionate and you’re fed up with being stabbed by his sharp bones. He leans back and looks you over. 

“So. You and that Captor kid fucking?” You choke on your own spit and begin coughing up a storm. He thumps your back once or twice, which does nothing and hurts to boot. 

“Of course,” you wheeze between coughs, “not. Why the fuck would you,” okay that cough actually hurt your lungs, “even fucking ask that?”

“You were practically wrapped around him when I walked in, kid. If you’re not fucking then he’s taking pretty big advantage of you.”

“He’s,” ugh words, “not and you know it.” Why does coughing hurt so much? Why are you trying to talk through it? Because you’re an idiot, that’s why. You take a moment to try to stop coughing before you continue. You mostly succeed. 

“Tell me you didn’t threaten him.”

“I didn’t threaten your little friend.”

“Oh god, you’re lying, you totally threatened him, what the fuck Dad?”

“I. Did. Not. Threaten. Him.” You glare at him. “There was merely a fly on the wall behind his head, and I killed it. With a knife. From across the room.” He looks unbearably smug.

“Clubs will blow you up if you kill his son. His son that, may I remind you, is the whole fucking reason you even met the demolitions expert.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” He pulls out a pack of cards. “Whatdya wanna play, kid?”

“Go fish.”

“52 pickup it is.”

“Hell fucking no.”

“War it is.”

“Fine.”


	16. karkat's a bit of dick

_2 years ago_

God this party is hella boring. 

It’s not that you’re not happy for your bro, of course you are, it’s just that it’s not the kind of party you would have thrown. You see Rose’s touch all over this thing, so despite the fact that it’s actually a pretty small gathering, it’s in this ballroom with all this really fancy food and everyone is in black tie and no one is comfortable and Rose is smug as shit. 

It’s nice to see her smug and all that, because she’s never happier than when she’s smug, but it’s still not your kind of party and you wish there was some better food, and she absolutely forbade you from wearing anything ironic so you’re just kind of sulking in a corner waiting for Karkat to arrive. 

He said he had a family thing and he might be late, but you didn’t think he’s be like an hour late which is what he is right now. He’d actually tried to skip out at first, but John wasn’t having any of that so he’d finally promised to come after a lot of swearing. 

But he’s pretty late.

You wonder if he’s not coming. 

That would be so lame. 

You wonder what family thing he even has anyway. You’ve known him for like four years now and you’ve still never met his dad, though according to Terezi that’s because they fight a lot and Karkat kind of hates him. But Karkat kind of hates everyone, so how is that new? Anyway, he’s never even mentioned a mom, so she’s probably not in the picture, and what other family does he even have? 

You wonder if he was just making up this whole ‘family thing’ to get out of going to this thing. 

Rude.

“Soooo Dave, are you enjoying yourself?” Ugh. Rose’s sister has been following you around all night, drunk off her ass and trying to grab yours. It’s more than a little creepy because turns out the dad you never met did some shit and you’re actually her half-brother (which is why Rose found you online in the first place and then never told you about it until one night two months ago she got drunk on a dare and proceeded to tell you exactly why kissing you would be very very bad because Lalondes are bitches who keep secrets is why). So this is actually some incestuous grossness and you’d really like an out but Karkat isn’t around to distract her. Fuck Karkat. Why couldn’t he be on time for once in his life? 

You give your one shouldered shrug as you try to subtly dodge her wandering hands.

“Because I’m not.” If she asks you to make out with her you’re just going to ollie outie, fuck whatever Rose thinks about it. “Wanna know a secret, Daaaaaavvvveeeey?” Fuck now she’s got her arm of your shoulder, how can you extricate yourself without look hella uncool? “I’m in love with Johnny boy.” What? 

No, wait, seriously, what?

“Dirk's gonna be way disappointed. He would turn straight for you.” 

“Daaaavvveeee don’t mock me! I’m seeerrriooouss!” She takes her arm away and leans against the wall next to you. “I’m dying here!”

You don’t really believe her. Roxy has a tendency to exaggerate, even while not drunk. But there’s something about it that makes you want to listen. So you drag her over to a nearby table, stealthily replace the booze with punch (that no one’s ironically spiked yet, despite both Dirk and Bro being here, you swear you don’t know what they’re even doing anymore), and let her talk to you.

At least it’ll entertain you till Karkat gets here. 

 

“And his eyes are just sooooo blue, you know? Like, Janey’s eyes are blue, but not like that blue. Like hers are like this really pretty light blue, but his are so fucking deep and gorgeous and gawd I have such a thing for guys with dark hair and blue eyes, you know?” Actually, you don’t fucking know, because contrary to popular opinion, you have never had a crush on John. And you’re kind of totally regretting doing this because she just won’t stop talking and it’s kind of ridiculous and kind of really sad and she’s been going on for like 45 minutes and holy fuck is that Karkat finally!

It is, in fact, Karkat. He is nearly two hours late and you intend to give him as much shit as possible about that. You spot Dirk nearby and manage somehow to pawn Roxy off on him, before doing your fastest coolkid stride over to Karkat.

“Bro, do you know what I had to go through while waiting for you? You owe me something big, man. Like, twenty ironic pics of you in a dress or something.” You hear a choking noise from behind Karkat. He glares at you.

“As much as I know you’d love to have those for your disgustingly lewd fantasies, Strider, I am not contributing to your, and I’m going to use your awful phrase here despite the fact that it makes me want to choke myself with my own spinal cord, ‘spank bank’ under any circumstances whatsoever. Never, ever, ever. Not in a million years. There are so many levels of no to my answer that I have drilled through back to yes and then all the way around to no again. I have never noped so hard in my life.” This tall, leggy chick wearing a headscarf and a dark green dress emerges from behind him. 

“So does Tuesday work for you?” You’re trying not to stare, but she’s kind of gorgeous. Where the fuck did Karkat even find her? Is she his date? Is that what his ‘family thing’ was? Meeting up with this chick?

“It’s so fucking considerate of you to make schedule in a time for me to brutally murder you and destroy the body. Don’t worry, I’ll put all the blame on your Bro’s creepy puppet, make sure it’s burned in your memory.” 

“I don’t know, Karkat, I think you would look quite pretty in a dress,” the girl is smiling slightly. Her voice is poised and lilting. “I could even make it for you. I think a lovely shade of deep red would be perfect.”

“Bad Kanaya. No encouraging the retarded Strider. Stop before I have to fucking separate the two of you.”

“Yo Karcrab, who’s the chick anyway?”

“I swear to fucking god if you call me one more fucking nickname, I will use your shitty sword to gut Dirks computer and blame it all on you and he will fucking buy it and you will never be seen or heard from again and I will never stop laughing. And if you disrespect Kanaya in any way, shape, or form, I will use it to actually gut you and use your internal organs as decorations in my apartment.”

“My name is Kanaya Maryam. I am Karkat’s cousin.” She holds out her hand for you to shake. You decide to kiss it ironically. She smiles at you. “Am I correct in assuming that you are the infamous Dave Strider?”

“The one and only.”

“Karkat has told me much about you. Do not be fooled by his words, he would be quite upset if anything were to happen to you.” You just smirk, because yeah, you know that. Karkat acts like he hates everyone, but it’s usually just the opposite. The more he hates you, the better friends you are. Not that the two of you don’t have legit friendly moments too, they’re just few and far between. 

“You are a blatant and unrepentant liar, Maryam,” Karkat snarls. 

“Yes of course dear.” Kanaya links her arm with Karkat’s. “Now I do believe that it is proper manners to go greet the hosts of this celebration. If you would, lead the way.” Karkat rolls his eyes and drags her off to where John and Rose are sitting. You trail a little behind.

Rose, in her infinite sarcastic snarkiness, has actually gotten thrones for her and John to sit on while greeting guests. Rose looks smugly satisfied. John looks uncomfortable. 

“Karkat!” John leaps up and bounds over to hug Karkat, who detaches from Kanaya just in time for the spinning anime hug John bestows. “I almost didn’t think you’d make it!” he exclaims as he releases the poor shorter male.

“I’m not that late,” Karkat mumbles while very clearly fighting off dizziness. 

“Bro, two hours. Two. Fucking. Hours.” 

“Shut up, Dave!”

“Oh! Who’s this?” John’s just noticed Kanaya, who’s looking off at the thrones with a bit of a blush on her face. Yeah, you felt embarrassed for Rose and John when you saw the things too. 

“This is my cousin, Kanaya.” Rose has now made her way over in a much more ‘dignified’ manner than John did. “Kanaya, this is my friend John.” Kanaya shakes his hand. “And this is Rose.” It’s interesting how similar Kanaya’s blush is to Karkat’s. It’s not exactly the same, because Kanaya lacks the mutation you and Karkat share. Her blush is darker than his, but it moves in the same way. You can see the similarities. 

“Charmed.” Kanaya offers Rose her hand. 

“I’m sure.” Rose takes it.

Kanaya spends the rest of the engagement party with Rose and John, while you and Karkat dodge the Egberts’ and Crockers’ pranking attempts.

 

It is a month later that Rose breaks off the engagement with John to be with Kanaya.

John is heartbroken. He doesn’t speak to Rose or Kanaya for six months. 

Eventually, he begins to get over it. He starts chatting with Rose online again (that’s how they met, and how they dated until senior year when Rose’s family moved out to Oregon), and slowly builds up to seeing her in person. He still doesn’t like Kanaya, though.

It is hard for your friend group. You feel torn in two. It is a choice: John or Rose. You cannot invite both to these events anymore. You are all relieved when, a year after the break up, they can finally be in the same room together. 

You try to hate Kanaya for breaking your half-sister and your best bro up, but it is very hard to hate Kanaya. You manage a mild dislike.

When Rose gets drunk while John isn’t talking to her, she spills to you that she’d had doubts for ages now. Doubts about their compatibility, about whether or not they would last, about whether she even wanted the same things as John. John wanted to marry a nice girl, settle down, and have two kids (one girl and one boy). Rose wanted to do things. She wanted to go places and explore, and, truthfully, she’d never liked kids. She didn’t want to be a ‘nice girl’. She wanted to be herself.

When she told you how happy Kanaya made her, you couldn’t even pretend to dislike Kanaya. 

In the end, it Kanaya and Rose were better than John and Rose.

It just sucked that so many people had to be hurt to figure that out.

 

If you had watched Karkat’s face at that engagement party instead of Kanaya’s, you would have seen some very strange things. 

You would have seen undue apprehension when introducing the two women.

And you would have seen remarkable pain when they shook hands. 

Because Karkat, of course, remembered. He knew what he was doing when he introduced them. He knew what would happen. 

And he did it on purpose. 

This doesn’t occur to you. It doesn’t occur to you when he spends the rest of the night looking a little off. It doesn’t occur to you when he tells you how guilty he feels sometimes. It doesn’t even occur to you when you find out the truth about your pasts. 

You’re done thinking about John and Rose and Kanaya. It’s old news by now. News everyone would much rather forget. You’re all done feeling bad about it.

Except, of course, for Karkat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a dick move, Karkat.


	17. IF I DON'T, WHO WILL?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes comments just confuse me.  
> Like sometimes I just don't know what one means.  
> And sometime you guys talk to each other in the comments, and then I think you're talking to me, and I get all confused.

“If you could forget, would you?” It comes basically out of nowhere. 

When your dad left, Sollux and Dave tried to rush back in to talk to you, but Jade scolded them for monopolizing your time and then made them sit outside while everyone else got a turn. 

Obviously not everyone is still out there. You’re out of the woods for now and while you still have to be held until they can determine whether you are still a threat to yourself, it’ll only be five more days at most in this shithole. They’ll probably release you to Kanaya, under the caveat that she makes you seek proper care. And you’re sure she will. And you’re sure you’ll lie your ass off. At any rate, they’ve mostly gone back to their everyday lives, promising to stop by sometime soon and see you. Right now you’ve got Jade and Gamzee in the room with you, and Sollux and Dave out in the waiting room, and that’s it. Even Kanaya had to go back to her summer job. 

Most of you are just on summer break right now. You all gather back up in your hometown, return to the same old jobs you’ve had since junior year of high school, and try to raise a bit of money for the next semester. Dave’s a DJ in a club in a nearby city, Sollux freelance codes on the internet, Kanaya runs an Etsty shop and works in a local clothing store, etc. etc. You usually work in a crappy little video store where you find all these old, kinda shitty movies that you take home to watch (and secretly really enjoy). You got fired about two weeks ago when they discovered that you were borrowing the movies like that, so at least you don’t have to worry about missing work. 

Jade decided that she didn’t want to talk about past lives anymore, and Gamzee’s too busy smoking something out the hospital windows to remember to ask anything, so you’re basically all just trying to return the dynamic to normal. You think Jade’s a little jealous of Dave and Sollux right now. Not in a “she has a crush on me too” kind of way, just in a “he’s my friend too, how come you’re the only ones he talks normally to” kind of way. 

So here you are, reading aloud the book Harley brought to her and Gamzee, when she suddenly cuts in with this out-of-the blue question.

“What?” You blink slowly. 

“You’ve been making this huge deal out of how awful it is to remember, but if you had the choice, would you forget?” 

“Well, if I forgot now I’d forget the last 21 years, all of you guys, and everything I ever learned in school, so fuck no.”

She slaps you on the shoulder. “Ugh that’s not what I meant and you know it. Seriously, Karkat!” 

“No, I don’t know it! Say what you fucking mean, Harley, or shut the hell up and let me read.” She glares at you.

“Fine. If you had a chance to never have remembered, right from the start, like the rest of us, would you take it?”

“Yes.”

“Think carefully, Karkat, then answer.” You roll your eyes, but you try to actually think about it. God, the things you do for Jade sometimes.

You think about the nightmares and the sleep rage and the problems connecting to people. You think of every way remembering has fucked you up. You think about how you’ll never get to have a romance of you own, how you’re always watching yourself, how you beat the shit out of Sollux, how scared Jack was. You think about how you’ve manipulated peoples’ lives to fit the people you remember. Of course you’d forget. 

And then, unbidden, you think about Perigee’s Eve with your lusus. You think about Davesprite, still trapped in the game. You think about meeting Jack for the first time. You think about your black crush on John, your red-black crush on Terezi, your short-lived moirailegence with Gamzee. You think about meeting Dave and Rose at the green sun. You think about Aradia and how happy she was to finally be alive. You think about saying goodbye to Sollux. You think about Alternia and everything you miss about it. You think about all the hard times and all the happy times. You don’t mean to think about these things. They just kind of come up. 

You’re quiet for a long time. 

“No.” It’s small and soft and not at all unsure. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Her answer is just a small and soft as yours. “Then don’t you think we have a right to choose to remember too?”

“No.” You’re louder now. 

“Karkat, they’re our lives too. Our memories.” She puts her hand on your shoulder.

And then suddenly you’re burning inside and you turn sharply to look at her, to _make sure she understands_. “ _No._ They’re _not_ your memories. You are not them.”

“I thought you said – “

“One thing the game teaches you is how to distinguish between someone with your dna and _you_. Let me make this perfectly clear: _you are not them._ Their lives are not yous. Their memories are not yours. Your personalities may be similar, your faces may be practically identical, but you _are not the same!_ Their world looked like this one, but it was so different. And _no_ , I can’t tell you how. You’ll just have to believe me.” 

“So, what? I’m not Jade Harley, I’m some imposter!?” She’s standing now and yelling at you. She’s so angry. She’s not understanding.

“You are Jade Harley. You love science and guns and you have a big white dog and you’re fantastic at calling me on my shit. You’re Jade Harley in every possible way you could be. You’re just not her. You’re not my Jade, from my universe, and do you have any fucking idea how happy that makes me?” 

“What?” And you’ve genuinely shocked her, so you rush on.

“You have no _fucking clue_ how much shit _my_ Jade had to put up with. You have _no fucking clue_ what she had to do, how she had to grow up, the things that happened to her. And she stayed so happy the whole time! She put on this brave face, but there were all kinds of things just below the surface, and I couldn’t see it for the longest time, but she never ever got to be as happy as you.” You remember Jade telling you once about … about having to stuff her grandfather’s corpse. Fuck, that shit’s messed up. “And I am so incredibly glad that you exist. You’re the life she never got. Do you have any fucking idea how _special_ you are? How _amazing_ it is to me that you get to exist?” You put her hands on her shoulders because she’s crying now and you don’t know what to do. “She hated some of her other selves, but _she would have loved you_.” And then you’re hugging her because you don’t know what else to do because she’s still crying and you didn’t mean to make her cry and what is even happening right now?

Jade’s grandpa is alive and well in this world. John’s nanna too. And Bec is just a dog and GCat is just a cat. Jade and her grandpa drive up to a shooting range two hours away every third Saturday, just to make sure she knows how to properly wield a gun. John’s nanna is constantly stopping by his house with cakes that he always has one piece of, despite the fact that he really doesn’t like cake. And every August Jade’s grandpa takes the whole family on a trip to some exotic locale and John and Jade always take a lot of really cheesy pictures and do these stupid, touristy things and eat all this weird food and they always come back really happy. 

And you’re so incredibly glad that they have the chance to do all that, with their families. 

Jade pushes you off her after a while, and goes to grab some tissues from the other side of the room to wipe her face with. You still don’t understand why she cried. Gamzee is watching the two of you, but he’s not saying anything, and you just don’t understand. And when she hands you back the book that fell on the floor while you were trying to calm her down, you think she wants you to keep reading, but she starts talking again instead. 

“If we’re so lucky to not remember, why do you want to?” And her voice is a little choked up and you still don’t understand.

“Because … because someone should remember. Everything that we did, everything that happened to us … it shouldn’t just be forgotten. Even if I … Even though I’ll never tell anyone else, it feels wrong that it should just – just be lost. It feels … it feels right that I should remember. Besides,” you swallow roughly, “I’m not one of you. I’m not – whoever I was supposed to be, the Karkat this world was supposed to have – he’s gone. He’s lost, he was lost so that I could survive.” You try to find the page you left off on in the book. “I’m not one of you, not really. I’m one of them.”

“My brother,” it’s Gamzee now, still leaning against the window and smoking what you think is a blunt out the window, “you _are_ the Karkat who was supposed to be here.”

You can’t help snorting a little at that. “Gamzee, you’re high as balls right now.”

“Don’t change what I said. The fact that you remembered, and got to all bringing us together, that’s a motherfucking miracle if I ever did see one. You’re a little miracle, my brother.” 

“You do belong here, Karkat. You have to know that.” You stop yourself from laughing by starting to read aloud again. Because there is so much they don’t know, so much they can never understand. It’s hard, because you want them to. You want to hold them down and make them understand why you don’t fit in, make them realize how many ways you’re broken. Because you are so, so broken. But you can’t. It’s too dangerous. 

They don’t understand. And they never will. And that’s just the way things have to be. 

As they’re leaving, Jade turns around and you’d thought you were done being shocked by what came out of her mouth, but apparently not. “You know, Karkat, if you kill yourself, who’s going to remember them?” And then she just leaves.

And you don’t have an answer.

 

After Jade and Gamzee leave, the doctors send in a psychiatrist to talk to you. 

They ask why you tried to kill yourself. 

When you say you did it to save your friends, they don’t understand.

You don’t explain.

Once again, you can’t. 

 

The psychiatrist leaves after about an hour. You clammed up every time they brought up your suicide attempt, but they did manage to get you ranting about how terrible the hospital room is for a while. You think you shocked them a bit. You wonder if they’ll diagnose you with rage issues. It wouldn’t be untrue. 

 

You think Sollux and Dave must have left because the psychiatrist left ten minutes ago and neither of them has come in to try and make you talk about last night yet. You wonder where they went. 

Gamzee gave you a new notebook and some colored pencils before he left. 

You could draw something.

You throw them out the window instead. 

 

If you kill yourself, who will remember it all? 

Maybe if you typed it all up, saved it on a USB, and locked the USB up. The story would still exist then, forever preserved. It wouldn’t depend on you anymore. 

You wonder if you can get someone to bring you your laptop.

 

You’re back to singing “99 bottle of beer on the wall” when Dave suddenly bursts into your room, followed closely by Sollux. Sollux looks pissed as hell, but Dave just looks determined. He strides over to your bed and you’re wondering what happened, when – 

Holy shit.

Holy motherfucking shit.

Dave Strider is kissing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangers, amiright?


	18. OH, I GET IT

Dave Strider is kissing you. – 

– HOLY FUCK DAVE STRIDER IS KISSING YOU WHAT THE FUCK – 

– Man he’s a good kisser. Should you be responding or something – 

– Why is Dave kissing you? –

– DAVE KISSING WHAT IS HAPPENING – 

– I can’t I can’t _I can’t I can’t Ican’tIcan’t **Ican’t**_ –

You shove Dave away from you and try not to think about how nice his lips felt and how you never responded and how that was your first kiss in any of your lives. 

“Told you he’d reject you.” Sollux sounds unbearably smug and you wouldn’t even notice but every inch of you is buzzing and you’re so suddenly alert _because that was your first kiss_ and what just even happened? Dave doesn’t answer and you think maybe you’ve offended him a little but you’re too busy freaking out to do anything about it and what the fuck just happened!? “Should’ve never taken me up on that dare, Strider.” Wait, dare?

You manage to stop freaking out for a moment to look at Sollux and Dave. Dave’s still next to the bed, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s trying to stop himself from punching Sollux, who is leaning against the doorframe with the smuggest smirk on his face, and holy fuck you get it now. 

They break away from glaring at each other when you start laughing. 

And _man are you laughing._

It isn’t like your fit before. This isn’t bitter, sad laughter that hurts as it comes out. This is … this is real, honest, genuine _laughter_. You know you’ve got this huge goofy grin on your face as you just laugh and laugh and laugh. Your sides split and your cheeks ache and just when you think you might be able to get it under control, you look up at them again and it’s a lost cause. You’re clutching your sides as you laugh uncontrollably and you’re kind of amazed you’re still sitting up straight. 

“KK, what the fuck?” Sollux is smiling a little, so you must look ridiculous, but you can’t exactly care right now. 

“It’s just – so – fucking – _cliché_!” You can’t speak without laughter interrupting ever few words but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “It’s – it’s like – I’m in a – in a fucking – romcom!” And then you fall over on your side, curled up from laughing so hard. You think you’re even crying a little. This is fucking priceless. “My life – is a – fucking romcom – can you – fucking – believe that?” 

Because it’s just like that. You’re this incredibly pitiful guy with a tragic past that tortures him, and you attract the interest of Redrom Interest A. Meanwhile, your moirail begins developing flushed feelings for you as well, leading inevitably to competition between the two. They begin to “platonically” hate one another, pushing each other to go further and further with the main protagonist, while slowly developing black feelings towards each other, which they don’t acknowledge until the protagonist forces them to. They enter into a stable Kismesitude and the protagonist selects one of them to enter into a matespritship, leaving the other to find new hope with someone new just before the end. It was a tried and true plot, one many attempts at a blackromcom used. You can’t remember the number of times you’d seen it. 

And now you’re fucking in it. 

Admittedly, it’s not quite the same, given that you’re human now and humans don’t exactly have blackrom. Humans are apparently to messy to just have fucking quadrants and instead all the different feelings get mixed in for lovers, friends, and rivals. Friends act like moirails and auspitices, but so do lovers, and love has blackrom and redrom and it’s a different combination every time and sometimes you wish they could just be as neat as the Alternian system was. But nope. Damn humans and their stupid emotions. 

By now you’ve managed to calm down enough to talk, just a little giggle escaping every now and again. “God, I haven’t laughed like that in ages.” Your voice is a little rough from the laughter and you’re wiping a tear from your eye and you still can’t stop smiling. You kind of like it. 

“You know, Karkat, it’s rude as fuck to laugh after a guy kisses you. Hurts his manly pride and what not.” Dave’s infamous poker face is still firmly in place, but his voice is warm and smiley. 

“Stop being so fucking sensitive, Dave. You’re a big boy, you can handle a little laughter.”

“You have no idea how _sensitive_ I can be, Karkitty.”

“Yeah, that’s right Strider, come on to the guy who just laughed his ass off at you kissing him. Great idea.”

“I’m sorry, athhole, I can’t hear you over Karkat grinning like an idiot, care to repeat your statement?”

“Calm down girls, you’re both pretty.” 

“I don’t know Karkat, I don’t feel pretty. Can you make me feel like woman?” You roll your eyes at Dave.

“We’re in a hospital, I’m pretty sure there’s a procedure for that. You’ll need a dress for afterwards though.”

“For easy access?”

“And we’re done.” 

“No, I like this train of thought, let’s continue it. In bed.”

“I am in a bed, you absolute tool.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Yes, to fuck right the hell off.”

“I’d rather fuck you.”

“HEY SOLLUX HOW ARE YOU?”

“Rude, Karkat. Rude.”

“Oh no, god forbid I was rude! I’ve brought shame down on my whole fucking family! Shame on me, shame on all of my friends, and most of all shame on you, you insufferable prick! There’s so few things that I could have done to bring more fucking shame down on myself, except, maybe, I don’t know, stealing a guy’s fucking first kiss with no warning for a fucking dare!”

Dave goes rigid. “That was your first kiss?” 

“I’m going to kill you,” Sollux practically snarls from the doorway, glaring at Dave.

“Hey man, not my fault. You’re the prick who dared me to do it.”

“I wasn’t serious and you knew it!”

“Maybe you shoulda been clearer about that.” Dave’s caught between smug and annoyed. Sollux is just plain old furious.

If Sollux was still a troll, they’d probably be kissing right now.

(Hot.)

(Stupid brain doesn’t know what it’s saying, don’t listen to it.)

“If Sollux was still a troll, you’d be kissing right now.” You don’t really mean to say it. You just sort of blurt it out because the tension between the two of them is thick enough to cut it with a knife and you’re half hoping it’ll diffuse the situation somewhat. 

(The other half of you is hoping they’ll see it as a suggestion, but we don’t speak of that half. That half has been ex-communicated.)

Dave whirls around on you, his poker face broken by shock. “Troll lips extend across the room!?” You snort. 

“Yeah, Dave, that’s exactly what I fucking meant. Gold star for you.”

“KK, you can’t just let that drop and then not fucking explain.”

“Actually, I can. Really fucking easily. Watch how easy it is for me to let that drop and then not do shit about it. Look. Marvel. Enjoy.”

“For once I’m with the douche here. What the fuck did that even mean, bro?”

“I actually feel dirty now that you’ve said that. I never ever want you on my side. Ever, Stider. Stop it.” And you giggle again because they don’t even know that they’re flirting. Seriously, you’re pretty sure Dave can turn anything into some kind of innuendo, and he lets ‘I actually feel dirty’ slip by him? Literally the only person he wouldn’t take that chance with is Rose, and that’s because she can make things ten times dirtier than him. They’re in denial. 

You’d never really thought about the two of them together. To be fair, you rarely thought about any of your friends getting together. You’re not Nepeta, after all. But now … You can’t do the romance thing. With anyone. You’ll have to keep reminding yourself of that. But maybe – just maybe – the two of them could work. They could – they could look after each other when you were … if you were gone, they’d probably work well together. 

You feel … relieved. You don’t have to worry about them so much anymore. They’ll be okay. They’ll have each other, even if they don’t want to. You’re still smiling. 

“KK, you’re not off the hook here. What the fuck did you even mean by that?”

“It’s a troll thing.” You can’t help the smile turning into a smirk. You just can’t.

“Yeah, we got that, thanks.” 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“If you say that to me one more fucking time, KK, you can’t hold me responsible for what I will do to you.”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to come on to him, but you are?”

“That was a threat, you moron!”

“Didn’t sound like one to me.”

“I can’t decide which one of you I want to punch more! What the fuck are you smiling at, KK!?”

“Nothing, Sollux, nothing.” Them. You’re smiling at them. Because you can remember, once upon a time, a different Dave hating you in a similar way. You can remember how much the two of you platonically despised each other. And you can remember how, not 2 sweeps later, you were the best of friends. Yeah, Sollux and Dave’ll be just fine. 

Sollux just lets out an exasperated sigh and face palms. Dave sits down on the bed next to you. He grabs your hand and twines his fingers with yours. 

“Was that really your first kiss?” His voice is soft now, and he almost sounds guilty. You feel like ruffling his hair to piss him off and screw it up, but you can’t reach very well with the hand he’s not holding and you don’t want to get gel on your hand anyway.

“I’m using this word in its proper context, not the fucking way you use it, just so you know, but _ironically_ , I’ve never had much time for romance. In any of my fucking lives.”

“Wait, so that was like, your first kiss ever? I thought – “

“Think about the game for a second. Do you really think there was much time for kissing? Or anything like that? Actually, you know what, there was a fuck ton of time for that. Even if there wasn’t time for it, it happened. What there weren’t, were people to really kiss. So yeah. First first.”

“Man, sorry for such a shitty first kiss.” You shrug. “I should probably do it again, you know, to make up for it.”

“Strider, no way are you kissing him again.”

“I’m sorry, Captor, since when do you have any say in this situation? Oh, that’s right, since never. You don’t. Shut up.” And surprisingly, Sollux does, because Dave is leaning towards you again and you freeze for a moment. You don’t know what to do. Part of you really wants to kiss him because it wasn’t even that bad of a kiss, and it was only bad because you were freaking out, not because of anything Dave did, and god he’s look so sweet when he’s nervous, but you can’t, _you can’t_. 

“Dave,” you’re breathing it against his lips and it was supposed to be you stopping him but it came out all breathless and shit. “Dave,” you try again, louder. “I – I can’t.” His eyebrows furrow briefly, but he pulls away. You look down at your intertwined hands because you can’t look at him right now because you can’t be sure you won’t just surge up and kiss him. 

“No worries, bro. You’re not exactly in the most stable place right now. It’s totally cool to not want to get into anything till you’re more secure.” It’s not quite the truth but it’s more than you’d let on and it reminds you how much Dave gets you sometimes. You don’t have to say much for him to understand you. “I just want to make sure you know what’s going on, ‘kay bro?” You nod slightly, and tuck your head into the crook of his neck because you’re weak and even when you’re supposed to be pulling away, you can’t always help yourself.

He rests his cheek on top of your head and plays with your still intertwined fingers. 

It’s so sweet you feel like crying.

You settle for squeezing his hand instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekiversary! This fic is now one week old.  
> I meant to have this done by last night, but I hung out with friends instead.  
> Weird, right?


	19. 2ometiime2 thiing2 have two break two heal

“Oh, please, I dare you to kiss him! He’d reject you in an instant.” You’d meant it as a joke. It was sarcasm, it was needling, it wasn’t supposed to prompt him to storm into KK’s room and actually kiss him. 

It was hard to watch the two of them cuddling now. It burned in you that Strider knew how to deal with this, knew how to comfort him so easily. He always knows the right thing to say. 

You never do. 

You feel the anger draining out of you, replaced with this empty, hollow feeling.

“Okay, now get the fuck out.” Dave raises on eyebrow. You hate his eyebrows and his ability to raise just one of them so perfectly. You bet he practiced that for ages. You bet he plucks his eyebrows for it.

“Sudden much?”

“I need to talk to Sollux.”

“He’s right there.”

“Alone.” Dave clearly doesn’t like that. But he shrugs and agrees to leave the room. He brushes past you as he leaves, almost knocking you in the shoulder. You bet that was intentional. Prick. 

Karkat sits cross-legged on the bed, and pats the space in front of him. You walk over slowly, and sit right in front of him. 

You’re both silent for a while.

“Do you love him?” It’s soft and quiet and you sound incredibly weak. You sound tired. You’ve been through a lot, and now you’re just tired. You’ve had your breakdowns. You’ve had all of them. You’ve cried and raged and hurt and died a little, and now you’re just done. All you really want to do is go to sleep. But you ache inside in a way you were totally unprepared for, and you know you’ll never be able to sleep again.

“I’m half in love with all of you, honestly.” It’s not what you were expecting. “I find the very fact that you exist amazing. You’re …,” he laughs a little, “you’re all miracles to me. And I’m just in awe of you.” He’s picking at his hands as he talks to you. You watch that instead of him.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I sort of knew it and I sort of had no clue. It’s just always been there. Just below the surface. I … I was so busy just – just living that I never stopped to look at it. I’m sure, on some level, I was conscious of it. When I look back, it’s so clear. I can’t understand why I didn’t see it before. You – You remember when ED almost crashed that car?” He nods, slowly. “For like, a month after that, I couldn’t stop picturing people dying. My friends dying. I thought about what I’d do if AA or FF or TZ or ED died. I’d think about it long and hard. But the thing is … I never thought about it for you. I just – I never thought about it. It didn’t even occur to me, that there could be a world without you in it. You’ve been with me almost my entire life, I don’t exist without you. I think I fell in love the moment we met, and I just never realized I was falling until I had to face a world where you might not exist. A world that I’d never been able to conceive.” You glance up at him. He doesn’t look happy.

“Sollux, that’s not – nothing about that is healthy. You can’t be that dependent on people. You need to be able to support yourself.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Exactly. Look at me, Sollux! Look at where I am! Nothing about me is healthy. Nothing.” You bite your cheek hard, because you want to tell him that everything about him was wonderful, but that wasn’t the conversation you’d wanted to have here. “Sollux, please, don’t be like me.”

“I love you, KK!” His breath hitches and he digs his nails into his hands. “I love you, and I can’t deal with you being broken like this. I just – I want to kiss you and make it all better and it hurts so much that I can’t because it feels like you can and I _know_ you shouldn’t have that power over me, but you do! I need you, KK, and I always will.” You’re brave enough to look at him again. His eyes are shut and his brow is furrowed and he’s biting his lip like he needs to hold something back and it looks painful and sad and he loves you too. 

You can see it now, read it in every inch of his face, in the way he’s restraining himself, in the tightness of his limbs and the set of his jaw and the sad, wry twist of his mouth. You can see that it hurts him the same way it hurts you sometimes, when you think nothing will come of it, when you see him almost let Strider kiss him, and for a second you’re giddily happy because _he loves you_. 

God you want to kiss him.

“God I want to kiss you.” You sort of breathe it out and you don’t really mean to say it, but you haven’t got the best control right now. His eyes fly open and meet yours and you can practically see the tear within him, and the fact that part of him wants to kiss you too almost sends you through the roof. You’re only tethered by the fact that this isn’t a happy moment for him. He’s torn and broken and you don’t know what to do. You can deal with him when he’s pissed as hell, it’s your specialty, but you don’t know what to do here. You’ve never had to help fix someone broken before. You might be too broken yourself to even try. 

Stri – no. Dave. Dave could help him. Dave’s been helping him through this, through the moments where he looks to broken to fix. Dave knows how to handle that. What have you done? Pissed him off, invaded his personal business, let him beat you up a few times, placed your entire sanity on him. God, you’re worthless. All you do is add more pain. 

You barely notice the change in Karkat’s face, as he watches yours. You don’t bother to take note of it until he puts a hand on your cheek and you’re startled out of your self-pity. He doesn’t look torn anymore, not really. His face is set in determination, and you don’t understand why until he starts moving toward you slowly and oh. 

You watch him with wide eyes as he inches incredibly slowly towards you, making sure you’re okay and ready and prepared for this. Shit, you don’t know if you’d ever really be prepared for this. You wonder if he’s really moving that slowly or if time has just slowed for you. You get the feeling it might be the latter. 

His nervousness broadcasts itself in the hand that’s on your cheek, in how it’s just a little bit sweaty and gripping just a little more than he probably wants it to. But when you look in his eyes, all you see is the pure, stubborn determination that is the essence of Karkat. It’s the same look he has when he fights, when he tries to code even though he can’t, when he’s playing you in a fighting game and losing, when he’s set his mind to something and is damning the odds. And it’s so purely Karkat that your heart stutters. 

You think he meant to keep them open, but his eyes flutter shut just before he finally, _finally_ presses his lips against yours. 

He’s soft and gentle at first, just kind of warm and comforting and _there_ , and it’s kind of perfect. When you return it, just as gently, he gets braver, pressing harder against you and tilting his head a little and then it is perfect. Nothing could be more perfect than this. 

He pulls away slowly, and rests his forehead against yours. Even though the kiss was so incredibly chaste, your pulse is racing faster than ever before. “Fuck,” he breathes it against your lips, raw and ragged and a little breathless. You fight the urge to say ‘If you insist.’ You fight it by kissing him again. 

He gasps a little, and you think about exploring the inside of his mouth too, but you decide that you’re already pushing things enough. You try to bring your hands up to cup his face, but then he starts kissing back and you end up just helplessly grabbing at his shirt as he moves his hand to the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss. 

It’s kind of shocking that this is only his third kiss ever, because he’s incredibly good at this. 

You wonder if he learned from books or movies.

Knowing him, probably both. 

You feel this incredible swell of pride, knowing that Strider may have taken his first kiss, but you’re the first person he’s given one to. 

But then he’s pulling away, looking broken and sad again, and he’s chanting “ _I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t_ ”, and you don’t know what to do, because you _need_ him to be okay, and you shouldn’t put that on him, but you don’t know if you can stop. He’s crying a little, and you bring one hand up to actually cup his cheek this time, gently wiping away the tears with your thumb, and then he’s kissing you again, desperately, and you can taste the salt on his lips and it’s possibly the saddest thing ever. You’re clinging to him as he clings to you, and neither of you really knows what to do.

He breaks the kiss faster this time, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Sollux,” his voice is strained and sad, “ _I can’t_.” 

You swallow. “Can’t what, KK?”

“I – we – can’t – nothing good comes of this, Sollux. Nothing good.” Wrong. So incredibly wrong. “Sollux, for fuck’s sake, you still have bruises because of me.”

“It’s nothing I can’t deal with, KK.” And that’s true. The rage is something you can deal with. You don’t mind dealing with it, actually. 

“Sollux – fuck – you shouldn’t have to deal with it! That’s not healthy, whatever this is isn’t healthy –“ you start trying to cut him off, but he just plows right through you, “ – Sollux, _I wanted to kill you._ ” What? “When I’m – when that happens, whoever I’m fighting, I’m literally trying to kill them. I could have – “

“But you didn’t.” Your voice is stronger than you thought it’d be.

“But I wanted to.” His is weaker than you’d like it to be. 

“It wasn’t you. Not really.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s too dangerous, Sollux.”

“KK – “

“ _I can’t_ , Sollux, I just can’t. Not with you, not with anyone. You need to – you need to stop being so dependent on me, because I can’t support you. I can’t. I’m broken, Sollux.”

“So am I.”

“Not like this. Not like me.”

“KK – Karkat – _I need you._ ”

“And I need you. I need you happy, deliriously happy, and healthy and not in the constant danger that you’d be in with me. I need you to be safe. I – I can’t do that for you. I can’t.” 

“And I suppose you can with him.”

Karkat’s head shoots up. “Haven’t you been listening? I. Can’t. With anyone. Ever.” His jaw is clenched and his eyes are hard and flashing. “You think I don’t want to? You think this doesn’t hurt me just as much? I want – I want so badly, but _I can’t_.”

“KK, please – “

“I need you to promise me, Sollux. I need you to promise me that you’ll find someone else. That you’ll be okay if something happens to me.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. “That’s something I can’t do, KK.”

“Sollux – “

“NO! You don’t get to demand that from me! You don’t! You need to know, KK, that I won’t be okay! None of us will be okay! I am not giving you an excuse, a free pass to kill yourself!”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous I am to you?”

“I DON’T CARE! I don’t give a flying fuck how dangerous you are! I get to decide who I want to be with! Not you! And if I get to decide if it’s ‘dangerous’ or not!”

“Sollux, you can’t make an informed decision if – “

“Then help me! Help me make one! Actually explain something for once in your life!”

“I CAN’T!”

“YOU WON’T”

“NO, I CAN’T! YOU THINK I DON’T WANT TO? YOU THINK I’M NOT DYING BECAUSE I WANT SO BADLY FOR SOMEONE TO FUCKING UNDERSTAND FOR ONCE!? BUT I CAN’T! I CAN’T RISK THEM REMEMBERING, RISK PUTTING SOMEONE ELSE THROUGH THE HELL THAT IS MY LIFE! AND IT HURTS! IT HURTS EVERY DAY, AND I CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!” And you’re blindingly mad and you let a fist fly towards his face. He doesn’t dodge, doesn’t move, but every muscle is tensed and shaking and he’s so close to doing a fucking pirouette off the handle he has to actually wrap his arms around himself to hold himself back. 

“YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH PROBLEMS, KARKAT!” And you’re crying and his nose is bleeding from you punching him and then all of a sudden he’s thrown himself in your lap, arms wrapped around your neck and face in your chest, breathing hard and getting blood all over your shirt. And you just clutch him tight because you’re angry and sad and you don’t know how to feel. 

“Please, Sollux, please.” It’s practically a whimper. “I _need_ you to be okay.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible.” Your voice is sharp and bitter and he winces a bit at it and you feel no remorse whatsoever. “I love you, KK, but sometimes I hate you too.”

He gives this sad little chuckle and it makes your heart hurt despite the anger. “You have no idea.”

You stay like that for a while, just clinging to each other. It can’t be comfortable for him, but he doesn’t complain. You get the feeling that you both just need to hold each other right now. It feels like it’s all that’s keeping you from flying into a million pieces. 

 

Eventually, you let go of each other. He asks for some time alone, so you retreat to the waiting room. You probably look a mess, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You collapse into a chair, feeling sharp and broken. 

You’re surprised when Strider sits down next to you. 

You’re even more surprised when he starts talking. 

“When people feel they are too broken to be loved, they tend to shove those that they know love them away.” His voice is soft and … kind? “I don’t think anyone is, really. Too broken, I mean. It’s just that being broken, really broken, hurts. It hurts in a way that almost nothing else does: constantly, achingly, overwhelmingly. It hurts in a way that those who haven’t been broken like that can’t really understand, not fully. And they try to patch themselves up, but it’s like breaking a bone. Without help, they tend to screw up. They heal wrong, come up with ways to fix themselves that just don’t work. When that happens … In order to fix it, you have to re-break the bone, and then set it properly, so it can heal straight and strong and better than before.” He actually gives you a sad little smile. “It’s a little barbaric, really. Messed up, I mean. But it’s what you have to do. Sometimes, you have to be re-hurt so you can heal right.”

“You could hear us, huh?” Your voice is small and a little rough. 

“I think the whole state could hear you two.” 

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“A couple reasons.”

“… Which are?”

“For one, you look like you’re about to try something drastic yourself. And that won’t help anything. And … Karkat needs you. He’ll try his damnedest to push you away, but he really needs you there for him. He needs you to help him heal.”

“… I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

“I’m not sure anyone really knows how to do that. But … if you want any pointers, I’m right here.”

“… He needs you too, you know.” 

“Yeah. I know.”

“Stri – Dave?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“No prob.”


	20. oh hell naw, i hate him

You regret the kiss the moment Karkat pushes you away. You know you screwed up. Fuck. 

Captor had just gotten you so riled up, acting like he owned Karkat, like him and Karkat were this foregone conclusion, that you’d lost a bit of your usually tight self-control. You just wanted to prove to him that he was wrong. And in that moment, you’d almost forgotten about Karkat. You’d forgotten that it’s the worst kind of asshole move to just steal a kiss from someone. Fuck. FUCK. You screwed up. You shouldn’t’ve done that. 

“Told you he’d reject you.” Fuck Captor. Seriously. Fuck him with a rusty spork. That isn’t even right. Karkat isn’t rejecting you because you’re you and you kissed him. He’s rejecting you because you just fucking stormed into his room and molested his mouth with yours. Hell, you’d reject Karkat if he did that without asking. You’d shove him away too. Consent is an important thing, and you hate Captor for making you forget that. 

But you hate yourself more for forgetting it. 

If you didn’t, you’d have punched him in his smug face already. 

You think about punching yourself instead. 

“Should’ve never taken me up on that dare, Strider.” Is that a threat? Fuck it, maybe you’ll punch him anyway. You’re seriously considering it, when Karkat just suddenly bursts into laughter.

For a fleeting moment, you’re scared. You still vividly remember the last time he had a laughing fit. 

But this isn’t like that. He’s … He’s legitimately happy. He’s got this gigantic smile on his face and he’s breathless and his eyes are crinkled up at the corners and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone more gorgeous. He’s heartstopping, in all the best ways. You’re half in awe and the rest of you is throwing a fucking party. You don’t even know why he’s laughing, but you don’t question it. Hell, he could be laughing at your abysmal kissing skills and you wouldn’t give any amount of fucks. Because he’s _happy_ , and that is all that matters. 

You let out a relieved chuckle of your own.

“KK, what the fuck?” Shhhhh, Captor. Don’t question it. Don’t worry, be happy. 

Karkat’s answer makes you smile a bit more. Him and his romcoms. You wonder if he’s happy that his life has turned into one. You wonder if that’s one of his dreams. God, this kid. 

You have your poker face back under control by the time he finishes his fit. It’s hard, because it makes you kind of really happy to know that even if you did it by being a total shithead, you made him laugh like this. Or helped at least. It’s nice, in a kind of horrible way if you think too much about it. You try not to. 

“You know, Karkat, it’s rude as fuck to laugh after a guy kisses you. Hurts his manly pride and what not.” You kind of wanted to do this over-the-top hurt thing, but you’re still fighting back a smile, so it doesn’t really come out right. 

“Stop being so fucking sensitive, Dave. You’re a big boy, you can handle a little laughter.” Is he really leaving you that opening? He _has_ to know that you’ll take it. 

“You have no idea how _sensitive_ I can be, Karkitty.” You waggle your eyebrows at him, because nothing is more fun that this innuendo game with Karkat. You get extra points if he stops being fed up and starts blushing like mad. 

“Yeah, that’s right Strider, come on to the guy who just laughed his ass off at you kissing him. Great idea.” Captor is trying extra hard to be insufferable today. Great.

“I’m sorry, athhole, I can’t hear you over Karkat grinning like an idiot, care to repeat your statement?” If you run with Captor’s interpretation, then you are the sole reason Karkat is so happy right now. You’re actually really okay with that. 

“Calm down girls, you’re both pretty.” 

“I don’t know Karkat, I don’t feel pretty. Can you make me feel like woman?” You clasp your hands together, with your elbows pushed straight, and wiggle your shoulders a little bit. If you were a woman, your breasts would be doing something pretty interesting right now. You think about doing a pout to match it, but you decide it’s better with the straight face. 

You and Karkat go on with that for a little while. He keeps giving you the innuendos, you keep following where they lead. He’s fed up _and_ blushing. Double points. 

It’s not until the end of his long tirade that the fun fades. 

His first kiss? Fuck. That’s a shitty first kiss. That’s the shittiest first kiss. Fuck, you stole his first kiss. You bet he was saving that for something really special, because that’s who Karkat is. Crap. It shouldn’t have happened like this. It should’ve happened – you don’t know – somewhere really romantic, like on a boat in the middle of a beautiful lake with fireflies all around and the fish singing. Shit, wait, that’s the Little Mermaid. And they didn’t even kiss there.

You argue with Sollux on reflex. You’re only startled out of your internal freak out by Karkat saying that in another lifetime, you and Sollux would be kissing. He refuses to explain. You think maybe he said it just to freak you two out. 

(Some part of you thinks that Karkat wouldn’t do that. Some part of you thinks of dreams of Terezi and Gamzee and this sick feeling in your chest. Some part of you remembers the nightmares about black romance. But this part is very small and very far away and you don’t really hear it.)

You don’t really mean to ask him for another kiss. It just sort of comes out. You were just thinking about how shitty it was that that was his first kiss ever _ever_ , and you wanted to – to make things right. But next thing you know, you’re asking and he’s sort of saying yes and you’re leaning towards him slowly, the way you should have done before. 

When he breathes your name across your lips, it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. 

Until he says it harder. You understand now that he’s trying to get you to stop, and you pull away quickly. 

“I can’t.”

You know him well enough to see that that’s not a rebuff of you and your advances. It’s just him saying that right now, with everything he’s going through, he can’t do this with you. He actually really can’t. 

You’re proud of him almost. For knowing that. For being able to tell you. For pulling away even if he didn’t want to. He has to know that you’ll never push him. Never again. You’ll wait. You’ll wait forever. All you need is for him to know that you’re here. That you’re not going anywhere. 

Until he wants you to. 

 

You’re a little miffed when he asks to be left alone with Captor, but you deal. Karkat can spend his time with anyone he likes. 

If Captor does anything to hurt him, he’s going down.

 

When you hear the yelling, you think of rushing back to check on them. But Karkat yells a lot. It’s a thing with him. So maybe they’re okay. 

You wonder where your fist could cause the most damage on Captor’s body. 

 

When you see the blood on Captor’s shirt, the blood that couldn’t possibly be his, you see red. You’re halfway across the room to beat him up, when your vision clears, and you see the rest of him. 

He’s moving slowly but carelessly, feet plodding their way to ‘his’ chair, which he sinks into in a way that looks downright painful. He doesn’t react. He looks tired and sad and hurt and …

Broken. He looks broken.

Fuck. 

 

For the first time since Karkat was admitted to the hospital, you’re leaving for something other than to run home to change and shower. You and Sollux are going to go get some coffee, get away for a little while. Let the other’s look after Karkat when he’s ready. 

It makes you nervous, leaving. You know that Karkat isn’t going to die if you leave, but can you really blame yourself for a little separation anxiety? No. No you can’t. 

Sollux looks to be in a similar state. He can’t stop jiggling his leg and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from telling him to stop. 

You’d decided to be helpful for once in your life and take some pity on him. You’d given him advice, probably really shitty advice, and he’d thanked you. 

You’d told him he looked like he needed to talk. He’d nodded. You’d asked if he’d prefer to do it here or somewhere else. He said he needed to go home and change his shirt, and there was a coffee shop near his apartment that didn’t serve shit. 

So you’d ended up here, driving him to his apartment, trying not to snap at him for his annoying car habits.

This was so a bad idea. 

 

“So,” he snaps his head to look at you. “What happened?”

“We fought.”

“No shit.” 

“You didn’t ask for specifics.”

“Once again, being purposefully dense is my thing. Don’t steal my thing. It’s mine. I will cut a bitch.”

“He kissed me.” He has the nerve to look smug.

“And?” You are very sure not to react in any way. You carefully control your face, not wanting to give any hints that your heart is squeezing painfully. He said that specifically to hurt you, so you make sure he won’t get the satisfaction.

“Three times. We kissed three times.” 

“Sollux.” Your voice is sharper than he was expecting. “You had blood on your shirt. It quite obviously wasn’t yours. This is not the time for a pissing contest. I don’t give a shit how far you got with Karkat, I want to know how you screwed up and turned it into a screaming match. We don’t have time for this shit right now.”

“Why the fuck would I tell you anything?”

“ _Sollux._ ” Your voice is low and threatening as you lean forwards. “Karkat is going through a lot of shit right now. There is a chance that you did nothing wrong getting into a screaming match with him. He is _Karkat_ after all. **But** you might have done something very, very wrong. So I am asking you now, to please tell me what the fuck happened. This is a courtesy. Tell me before I make you.”

And, slowly, he does. He recounts the realization, the kissing, the argument, the punch, and concludes with the cuddling. You bite your tongue the whole way through to control your mounting anger. When he finally finishes, you’re surprised you haven’t bitten through.

“Okay, you did a shit ton of things wrong, Captor.” And you think he knows it, judging by the way he grimaces. “I’m gonna be nice, and start with the comforting news first.”

“You can be nice?”

You glare at him. “Only if you are.” His fists clench, but he nods. “First of all, you need to know that what Karkat is going through is not your fault.”

“I never said – “

“He’s your best friend, he tried to kill himself, you found him. Of course you’re blaming yourself. You’re blaming yourself for not finding him sooner, maybe stopping him. You’re blaming yourself for not noticing, for not seeing he was in pain. You feel like the fact that he was unhappy has to do with some deficiency in you. It doesn’t. This is not your fault. It’s not his either. It’s no one’s fault.”

“… How did you – “

“You know my brother, Dirk?” He nods. You swallow a lump in your throat. “Three years ago. Roxy found him. He – it was close.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. He struggles with self-hatred.” You’re staring out the window. “The therapist told us that it was important to remember that this was not our fault. That he wasn’t doing this because of us. It’s an important thing to remember. Helps, you know? Everyone – the whole group, I mean – they’re all blaming themselves a little. You just seem to be worse at dealing with it. You need to stop that, thinking it’s your fault, because it’s driving you a little crazy. And Karkat needs you right now. He needs you to be stable for him. That’s the second thing. You need to find a different support system, and then be Karkat’s. Karkat can’t be yours.”

“Karkat’s always been my rock.” His voice is hoarse and defensive. 

“Dude, you _can’t_ turn to Karkat for support right now. He doesn’t have any to give. His whole world’s upside down and inside out and – “

“And you’re saying ours aren’t? I’ve had more emotional upheaval in the past few days than – “

“But for Karkat it isn’t just the past few days. It’s probably been years since his world was what he wanted it to be. Hell, maybe this whole life has been like this. I want to believe that there was a time when he was really, truly happy for more than an hour at a time, but I don’t know. Maybe there never was. Maybe he’s always, from birth, had these problems. Can you imagine? Day after day, feeling like this. For years.”

“Actually, I can.” You raise one eyebrow. “Kind of,” he clarifies. “I – I got diagnosed with bipolar in high school. Before I finally got treatment, I – let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.”

“But you got treatment. You had people to support you. Karkat didn’t.”

“He had us! All of us!”

“He didn’t feel like that.”

“But he did!”

“But he didn’t think so. And, right now, that’s what matters. We need to make sure that he knows now that he has that support. _Without_ more demands being put on him.” 

“But he _needs_ to know that if he was gone, we – “

“No. He _needs_ to know we love him. He _needs_ to know that we’re here for him. He _needs_ to know that we’re going to help him through this, that he’s going to be okay. What he _doesn’t_ need is a guilt trip. He also _doesn’t_ need us putting more weight on his shoulders.” Sollux’s shoulders slump under your guilt trip. You almost feel sorry for the guy. Then you remember him punching Karkat, and you decide he deserves this. 

“I … I don’t know if I can stop.”

“Then learn.”

“How?”

“Take your problems elsewhere. Talk them over with someone else first. Aradia or someone.”

“AA and I aren’t talking right now. She’s … she doesn’t like what I did with the whole journals thing.”

“Then find someone else.”

You know what he’s going to ask before he does. “Can I – Can I talk to you?”

Your jaw clenches. “I kind of hate your guts, Captor.”

“Feeling is mutual, Strider.”

“Then why – “

“You have an annoying ability to understand me, okay? And you don’t put up with my shit, and you have what’s best for KK in mind, and you just fucking know what to say, alright!? I don’t like you, and I don’t like it, but you’re probably the best person for me to have fucking feelings jams with right now.”

“Glaring at me while asking for help isn’t really the way to go, Captor.”

“Goddamnit Strider! Just help me out, okay?!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely …”

“… Please. For KK.”

“… Fine. For Karkat.” God, you’ll really do anything for Karkat, won’t you?

“… He practically asked me to be okay with him killing himself.”

“What?”

“He asked me – he wanted me to promise him I’d be okay when he was gone. What do I do when he asks me something like that?”

“What did you do?”

“I yelled at him.” You wince. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“You … I’d tell him that he’s not going anywhere. Actually, I might end up yelling that at him.”

“Oh, so it’s okay to yell at him sometimes?”

“Not really. Maybe if he says something totally stupid. Like talking about how no one would miss him, or something. Ideally, it should be calmer than that, I think. But it’s Karkat, so some yelling is probably inevitable.”

“I just – I don’t know what to do. It feels like everyone knows what to do, everyone knows how to deal, except me.” Oh fuck no. You are not feeling sympathy for this douchebag. It does not matter that you’ve felt like that yourself. You hate him on principle alone.

“I don’t know how to deal with the violence.” You just kind of blurt it out. You just kind of wanted him to stop looking so fucking sad. 

“What?”

“The – the rage that he has. I – I’m not so good with that. Kinda freaks me out.” You clear your throat a little. “If you could – I mean, like in exchange, or some shit – teach me how to deal with that, that’d be awesome.”

“That’s just KK.”

“Not the Karkat I hang out with. Seriously, are you two secretly abusing one another or something? Do you actually hate each other? I wouldn’t put up with a friend trying to beat the shit out of me like that.”

“I – I don’t think so. It’s just how we’ve always been. It’s just sort of … natural.” 

“Karkat said the troll kids were more … unstable? More violent, at any rate.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

That’s just about the end of that conversation. You two don’t really have anything else to say to each other. You finish your drinks in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter ...


	21. i've got a dream

You blame Captor for the introspective mood on the drive back. 

(It’s probably not his fault, probably just finally being away from the hospital and being able to think, but you can blame him so you do.)

You begin to keep track of the times you do not think about Karkat, because it’s easier than trying to remember all the times you do think about him.

(You haven’t realized it yet, but when you are not thinking about Karkat, you are usually thinking about Sollux.)

There are moments, usually when he first wakes up, that he looks at you and you just don’t know what to do. You feel _small_ under his gaze. Inconsequential. Incorrect. He’s looking at you but he’s not looking at _you_. There’s someone else he wishes you were. 

He recognizes you, though.

That’s what scares you about the rage. He looks at you and he doesn’t even know who you are. You’re just some guy in the room with him. You’re not his friend, you’re a threat. Someone who might hurt him. And it hurts because you would never do that. But he would. He doesn’t remember you, doesn’t know who you are, but he’s going to assume you’re an enemy. 

You wonder when he learned to assume enemy instead of friend. 

You’d say the rage is worse, simply because it’s newer to you. You get the feeling it’s something he’s been hiding from everyone. (Almost everyone, you think, glancing over to Sollux.) You don’t blame him. 

(You kind of wish it had stayed hidden.)

That doesn’t mean the other doesn’t hurt too. It’s just a hurt that you’ve learned how to deal with. 

He’ll open his eyes and look up at you with this … this _hope_ in his eyes. And you have to watch it die. 

You wonder what he hopes. Does he hope that one day he’ll wake up and it’ll all have been a dream? Does he want to have imagined the past 21 years?

Does he want to have imagined you?

Does he want you to still be him?

It’s something you’ve been trying to fight. That assumption. You mean, Karkat should be allowed to miss him. He basically died so that you could exist. Or maybe you killed him. (This isn’t a good road to go down.)

(You can’t stop yourself.)

You wonder what that’s like. It’s kind of like hanging out with the people who murdered your friends. And these people look like them, but aren’t them quite. They’re these replacements, and they’re not bad exactly, but they’re not _them_.

You kind of really want to be him for Karkat. 

If you remembered, would that merge the two of you? Or would he take over? 

Would you die for Karkat? 

(Yes.)

(No.)

You don’t know.

What you do know is that when Karkat looks up with that hope in his eyes, when you have to watch it fade, you feel small. You feel like you’re not enough for him.

Fuck, you really want to be enough for him. 

Even if he – even if you don’t end up as couple, you want almost more than anything to help him. You want to see him happy and whole again. (Was he ever happy or whole?) You want to make sure that he will not just survive, but _live_. _Thrive_. Even if he can’t do that with you. 

(Sometimes you wonder if you could do it with him. If you could stand waking up every morning to that fading hope. If that wouldn’t break you.)

(You think sometimes that all you want in life is for him to look at you like you’re enough. Like you’re the one he’s hoping for. You wonder if one day, maybe years into a relationship, he’ll wake up and that hope won’t fade, because you’re the one he’s looking for. Because you’re the one he wants.)

(You think that might just be the best feeling ever.)

You used to think that it was just you. That you just disappointed him. Then one day, Jade mentioned it to you. Back in high school, she’d asked you if Karkat ever looked at you like you were someone else. It’d been bugging her. This was back when she had this kind of crush on him. (It faded pretty fast. You think this is probably why.) 

You’d kept noticing, after that, that he looked like that at everyone. It usually was when he’d just woken up. He slept a lot. He took naps on buses, in free periods, sometimes even during class. Not to mention the endless number of sleepovers you all had. 

Every time, he’d look at whoever woke him up with that hope. 

Every time you had to watch it die.

You used to wonder how much hope he could possibly have.

You know now that it’s not nearly enough. 

He still does it though. Still finds that hope in his dreams. Still looks at you like you’re wrong. 

You don’t know if it hurts more now that you know what he’s looking for. 

Apparently he’d asked for his laptop. John and Vriska had taken their turn in the room, and he’d said he wanted it. John had called you, asked you to swing by Karkat’s place to pick it up. You’d said okay. Sollux still has a key. 

You try not to notice the mess left behind by Sollux and his band of snoopers. Now is not the time. 

You grab his laptop and go. You really don’t want to spend more time here. 

When you get back to the hospital, he’s sleeping. Your footsteps in the room wake him up. 

You watch the hope die. 

 

Karkat wants some time alone. 

You give it to him. 

You haven’t slept anywhere but in a waiting room chair for days. You decide to go home to get some sleep. 

 

“Hey.”

“This is one weirdass dream.”

You’re kind of floating above this checkerboard planet. You can see this big green dead dude a little ways off. Below you is a group of floating people and some more bodies. Floating next to you is an orange, feathered version of you with some creepy ghostly tail instead of legs and a sword through his chest.

Your dreams aren’t normally _this_ weird. 

“Yeah, the game’s probably weirder than anything you could dream up.”

“The game?”

“Yup.”

“Like, _the_ game?”

“ _Yup_.” You glance around you some more. You wonder if you’re remembering things. But nothing really looks familiar. “Dude, you’re not remembering. I brought you here.” You raise one eyebrow. “True story, bro.”

“You looked different when Karkat drew you. More red.” Your coolkid chill can carry you through the weirdest of situations.

“Wrong Dave. That was Alpha timeline Dave. I’m Dave from a doomed timeline merged with a birdsprite.”

“No joke?”

“Wouldn’t kid ya like that.”

“Weird.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So where the fuck are we?”

“Told you already. I brought you into a memory of mine. From a better angle, of course.”

“Why now?”

“Couldn’t do it before. Karkat told me you guys found out. Thought I’d try. You’re the only one I can really reach.”

“You talk to Karkat?”

“Visits me when he sleeps sometimes. Good kid. Not that you don’t already know that.” If you were anyone else, you’d probably blush a bit at that. “Yo, I had a point in bringing you here.”

“Then make it.”

“Gotta zoom in first.” He starts flying towards the group of creepy ghost kids. “Follow along.” You try to fly, and find it’s pretty simple. 

As you get closer, you recognize a few of them. There’s Terezi’s sister. At least, you think it’s her. They’re all gray and weird looking, it’s kinda hard to pinpoint who’s who. 

Your breath catches in your throat.

There, at the head of the group, talking to a ghost troll with long thin braids and gills, is Karkat. He’s taller as a troll, and horned and gray, obviously, but it’s so clearly him. 

He’s covered in blood. 

You try to fly over to him, but the orange bird you stops you. “Just a memory, dude. Don’t worry, he’s fine. Try to actually pay attention.” You try to tune in. 

“You shore you’re gonna be ok, shouty?”

“I’m fucking fine, Meenah. Get going.”

“Touchy.” Ghost girl leans in and kisses him on the cheek. “See you on the other side, Karcrab.” You watch Karkat as he watches them leave through this door shaped like a house. They leave the door open. All you can see through it is light. 

Karkat heaves a sigh and walks over to this orange lump on the ground. You recognize the bird you. 

“Hey! Feathery asshole! You still alive?”

“Gee Karkitty, didn’t think you cared.” He coughs up something you think is blood, but it’s orange for some reason. 

“Shut up.”

“How are the others?” He’s trying to sit up. Karkat shoves him down.

“Dead.” Karkat’s surprisingly calm about this. The orange you isn’t.

“Shit. You better get them through fast.”

“Why? They’re not fucking getting deader. You are. Sit the hell down and let me help you. Or do you think you can walk to the portal by yourself?”

“Kid, I’m not going.”

“What!?”

“Look, that prize is for all of y’all. I’m a sprite. I don’t think I’m really supposed to go through. Besides, I’m like half bird. Who the fuck knows how that’s going to work out.” He’s bitter. He’s really bitter.

Karkat thinks about this for a while. “Fine. Stay. But at least let me help you.”

“Why? Game’ll probably collapse afterward anyway.”

“Because I fucking said so. Because I’m an asshole, but I’m not so much of an asshole that I’m going to leave you here to die.” Karkat takes off his shirt and starts tearing it into bandages. You try not to stare at his chest. You fail. 

He’s got these weird dark patches on his sides. You kind of really want to run your hands over them and figure out if they’re sensitive. You wonder what troll skin tastes like. 

Orange bird you whines practically through the whole thing. It just makes Karkat rougher with the bandages. He clearly knows how to treat wounds. You wonder why he had to learn. You don’t like thinking about that. 

When he finishes, the bird guy inspects the job. “This actually isn’t half bad.”

“Surprise of all surprises, Karkat Vantas is actually fucking competent at something! Fuck off.”

“I’ll help you with the bodies.”

“And screw up the fucking awesome bandage job I just did? No fucking way. You sit there like the useless lump you are and fucking heal.” Bird you looks like he’s going to argue, but Karkat gives him this lethal glare. He stays put. 

Karkat walks over to where the big green dead guy is. You realize now that there are smaller bodies scattered all around him. 

Your heart stutters when you see John a few feet from you. You almost didn’t recognize him because he’s in these really silly looking pajamas. Fuck. He’s dead. Fuck. Fucking hell. You’re kind of freaking out a little. 

Karkat isn’t though. He’s walking right up to the body, and picking it up. You’re surprised he’s strong enough. He’s got to be wounded too, with all that blood. How is he not dead on his feet?

Karkat just calmly carries John’s body back to the portal. He throws it through. Then he walks back and picks up Rose. 

You watch him carry many more bodies back to the portal. Some human, some troll, some this creepy black or white species with a shiny exoskeleton. (Carapace, your mind whispers.)

There’s one left. 

You recognize the red outfit. 

Karkat readjusts the shades on the dead you before picking you up. He carries you just as calmly over to the portal. He throws you through. 

He turns back to the orange you. “What’s the verdict? Gonna fucking die on me now?”

“Naw, turns out you’re not too bad of a nurse. Could use a better outfit though.”

“You shouldn’t be fucking complaining when my crappy ‘outfit’ is what saved you.”

“Just think you’d look sexier in a little white nurse’s dress.”

“Don’t try to play this game with me, Strider. I spent three years with basically no one but another version of you. I know all the fucking tricks.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You better go through soon. Don’t want it to close on you.”

“I’m the last living player. Why the fuck would it close on you?”

“Because this game hates its players.”

Karkat snorts. “And no truer statement could ever be said.” He starts to walk toward the portal, then stops. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, Vantas. I’m fine on my own.”

Karkat nods. He starts to leave again. Then stops, _again_. “Hey.”

“Fucking what Vantas!?”

“If I can, I’m gonna try to find you.”

“What?”

“Just … If there’s a way, I’m gonna try to find you.”

“You can’t save everyone.”

“No. But I’ve spent so long not being able to save anyone, I figure it never hurts to try.” 

“… You’re not so bad, Karkat.”

“Same to you, asshole.” Karkat flashes bird you a smirk, then finally walks through the portal. As he goes, the injured bird you fades away. The door portal disappears when it closes behind him. 

You’re quiet for a while. 

“That was the least of what we had to go through.” His voice is hard and bitter again. “That was us _winning_ the game.” Your chest feels tight.

“Why’d you bring me here?”

“Because I know better than anyone what it’s like to have someone wishing you were someone else. I spent three fucking years with my _best friend_ treating me like I wasn’t the _real_ Dave.”

“And?”

“And I know that, now that you’ve found out, it’s only a matter of time before you try to remember.” Your chest gets tighter. “I just want you to know that that’s a bad idea.”

“Why didn’t it bother him? Seeing all of us dead?”

“Because he’d seen it before. Because he knew you’d be okay in the new world. Because he grew up surrounded by death and fear and hatred.”

“How’d we win?”

“See that big green monster?” You nod. “Final boss. Almost impossible to beat. Rest of us died in the battle.”

“But not Karkat.”

“Interesting fact: there are few things in this universe more powerful than a fully realized, completely pissed off Blood player. Turns out all it took to give Vantas control over his aspect was seeing _all_ of his friends die.” You’re breathing hard now. Your chest still hurts. “Take this warning. Don’t try to remember. You’re better off without.” 

You bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, hands clenched around the sheets. 

You feel kind of like throwing up. 

You do, a few minutes later. 

 

You know that the orange bird version of you was trying to show you that remembering sucks. 

All you take away is that Karkat’s life has always sucked. And no one can sympathize. 

You wonder what it takes to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this fic really needed _more_ sadness.
> 
> Also I like this sending me songs trend. I like it a lot.


	22. let's relea2e 2ome ten2iion, kk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've got a ton of end of semester work, and apparently I'm now stage managing a show. I don't know how that happened. So, yeah, it'll probably be longer between updates for the next week or so. Sorry.

_11 years ago_

You’ve made a game out of it lately. See how far you can push KK before he looks like he wants to smash your face in. 

You kind of wish he would. 

It’s not like you’re overly physical. You’re kind of scrawny and weak and you don’t get a whole lot of sun. It probably isn’t very smart for you to be picking a fight with someone like Karkat, who’s taken some kind of martial art for a couple years now and is stupidly strong for his size and could probably beat you up really easily. In the normal order of things, you pick a fight with him and you barely live to regret it. 

(Particularly considering he’s the kid of a mob boss.)

(It is embarrassing how long it took you to figure that out.)

But this isn’t the normal order of things. This is the weird order of things where you and this kid are friends for some reason that neither of you can usually understand. This is the order of things where you’re both just on the precipice of puberty, and it makes you moody as hell. This is the order of things where Karkat would never really hurt you, but you kind of wish he would. 

It’s become almost a routine now. He comes over to hang out at your house, the two of you play video games, you own him and try to rile him up until he almost can’t stop himself from beating the shit out of you and then he leaves. He storms right out the fucking door without looking back.

The first day it’d been an accident. The first day you’d just been trying to be an annoying little shit because you felt like being an annoying little shit. You’d felt like informing him of how terrible he is every mistake that he made. You’d felt like kicking him every time it looked like he was going to get the upper hand. So you did. You’d reveled in the screeches of anger and the squawks of indignation, because it made you feel less shitty for some reason. You thought it’d be a one day thing, at the time.

And then he’d stormed out.

See, KK didn’t have self-control. That wasn’t a thing. He couldn’t stop his mouth from running, he ate whatever he wanted to, and he threw hissy fits at the littlest things. Sometimes they were even literal hissy fits, where he just hissed at whatever was annoying him. (Like a giant, angry kitten.)

(Adorable.)

So when he’d looked like he’d wanted to wail on you, you’d expected him to wail on you. 

Him controlling himself was new. Interesting. 

You want to see what it takes to make him break his rare self-control. To make him actually punch you. 

(You figure that the self-control comes from some bullshit thing in his fighting class, like ‘This should only be used for self-defense’.)

(You bet he really believes that.)

It’s not that you like getting punched. You don’t. You’d gotten punched lots of times by people you didn’t like, and you hadn’t enjoyed it at all. This isn’t about wanting to get beaten up. If you just wanted to get beaten up, you wouldn’t have to put in nearly this much effort.

This is about the effort. It’s about breaking down that ridiculous self-control. Not for any good reason. Just because it annoys you. Because it’s not KK. And because each day you get closer and closer, and it gives you this rush you don’t really understand. 

(You read somewhere that all kids are really sociopaths. They haven’t developed the right morals yet.)

(You’re not sure you believe that.)

So every day now he comes over, you start doing something, and you slowly start to take him apart, piece by piece. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned from growing up with an older brother, it’s how to start a fight without _starting_ a fight. 

 

His fist stops just short of your face. 

His arm is shaking with the force of holding it back, and it so incredibly clear that he just wants to punch you in the fucking face. He’s breathing hard and his shaking fist is less than an inch from your face and you just want that self-control to break. You want to know that you have the power to make him just completely lose himself. 

“Go on.” Even you can hear the smugness in your voice. “Go on, do it. Or are you too much of a little baby, KK? You too much of a little, tiny child, can’t even throw a punch. All those classes you’ve been taking, they don’t amount to shit, do they? You’re the worst fucking coward there ever was –“ That’s all it takes. When coward comes out of your mouth, he loses it. 

The first blow is a right hook to your eye, and your head snaps back so fast you’re surprised you don’t have whiplash. You fight back as much as you can, but you’re not in the fight to win it. Your fight was won when he finally threw the first punch. 

The smugness helps the pain. 

By the third hit he’s regaining some control. Not enough to stop, but enough that he’s pulling his punches a bit. You don’t think he realizes that though. You think it’s kind of subconscious. He knows you’re weaker than him and he can beat you no problem, so he uses only the necessary amount of strength. He’s either trying to be nice, or saving his strength for someone who’s worth it. 

You can already feel a black eye forming from his first hit, and you’re pretty sure your ribs will have some impressive coloring from his second, but all in all you’ll probably escape from this relatively unscathed. (You’ve had more than your fair share of beatings in your life. Kids aren’t so fond of lispy smartasses who have overdeveloped smug glands.)

It’s only a two more kicks and one more punch until he’s got enough control back to stop. 

“What’s the matter, KK? I thought you were some big tough fighter, but if you can’t even beat _me_ up, how are you ever going to protect your dad in his old age – “ You’re kind of a dick, and you can’t really stop yourself right now. You know going after the whole ‘family business’ thing bugs him. You know the idea that he wouldn’t be able to protect his dad, for some reason, bothers the shit out of him. You know all of his weak spots.

You hit them with painful precision.

His fist does the same to your lip. You aren’t expecting it.

Huh. He’s actually knocked you to the ground. Didn’t think he really had it in him.

You can hear his harsh breathing. It helps you focus, stop the world from spinning. 

You wonder if he’s going to kick you while you’re down.

Instead, after an amount of time that probably wasn’t as long as it seemed, he kneels down beside you. 

“Fuck you, Sollux.” He’s helping you sit up, getting your head between your knees so you won’t throw up. “Seriously, fuck you.” Normally you’d have some sort of witty retort, but you’re afraid if you open your mouth right now, something bad will come out. Either another taunt or your lunch, either way it won’t help in the slightest. 

You think you spend at least fifteen minutes like that: curled up, head between your knees, next to KK, who’s gently rubbing your back to help bring you out of it. You don’t know when he started doing that. It feels nice though. You focus on the soothing motion, letting it anchor you, slowly pulling yourself out of nausea. 

You expect KK to still be mad at you, but apparently by the time you actually recover, he’s too concerned. 

“You okay?” There’s this uncharacteristic worry in his voice, gentle and soft. You’ve heard it a couple times, after he’s walked in on the bullies who like to harass you doing their thing. He scares them off every time. It’s actually really funny, this scrawny little white haired kid making kids at least two years older than him run away. He doesn’t even have to fight them, he just yells and they chicken out. They don’t know he’s all bluff. 

You touch your lip and come away with blood on your hands. 

Okay, mostly bluff. 

(There’s also the matter of his mob boss dad, but honestly, you think KK is scary enough on his own.)

“I started it.” Your lisp is worse than usual. You wonder if your lip is split. 

“Yeah, well, you’re always an asshole. I should’ve learned not to take the fucking bait by now.” He’s half gruff and angry, half small and guilty. You feel like shit, and not just because of the pain. 

“Please, KK, you never learn anything, why break the trend?” You really didn’t mean to say that. That was a total dickhole thing to say. Why can’t you words right?

He doesn’t laugh it off like you want him too. He doesn’t slip back into your normal banter, which is what probably should happen. Instead, he stares at you long and hard. You avoid eye contact. Eye contact is like your worst enemy right now. 

He pulls away.

You feel like shit.

Holy shit he’s punching himself in the face what the fuck even KK why what are you doing why would you holy fuck why that looked really painful –

“Now we’re even.”

Seriously?

“Seriously? Did you seriously just punch yourself in the face for me?”

“Fuck you, we’re never ever talking about this ever again. Now you are fucking lucky I know how to patch up this shit. Where’s your first aid kit? No! Don’t fucking get up, are you the stupidest piece of shit ever? If you fucking puke I am leaving you to wallow in your own filth, I am by no means cleaning it up. Point me in the right direction, and stay the fuck put.”

“Calm your tits, KK. It’s in the hall bathroom, under the sink.”

“If you move, I will come after you with nothing but a q-tip and use it to choke you to death.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine. I’ll stay here.”

“Good.”

You think about following him anyway. But you can read the concern under his stupid threats, so you actually do stay put. You feel like you’ve put him through enough for one day. 

(Sometimes you wonder why he’s even friends with you.)

 

He’s incredibly gentle as he cleans your split lip. He makes sure the ice bag you have for your eye is not too cold, and not dripping anywhere. He insists that you take off your shirt so he can gauge the rest of the damage. 

You roll your eyes and just let him do what he wants. 

(It’s actually kind of nice to have him fussing over you.)

(You’ll never tell anyone that though.)

When he finally finishes checking everything over twice, he actually carries you over to the couch. He doesn’t even throw you on it, just puts you down gently. He even lets you choose what to watch. You pick Invader Zim, because you love it and he hates it and you want to see how far he’ll go with this whole caring bullshit. 

He doesn’t complain at all in the whole two hours you spend watching it. He just curls up on the couch and watches the show. He doesn’t even question the need for Gir to exist once. 

It’s weird. 

 

You swear to yourself that you’re not going to do this again. Ever. This was the worst mistake and you’re sure it’s going to strain your friendship and holy shit what if you stop being friends because of this? He’s weird as fuck after, and you’re never ever fighting him again. 

Or so you thought.

You’re paying special attention over the next week, watching for signs that things are going south. So you really, really notice when things … don’t. 

KK’s actually less irritable. 

He’s more relaxed around you the whole week, less angry all the time, less tense. It’s like finally getting to punch you released some pressure that had been building up. You didn’t even realize the strain was there until it was gone.

You sure as hell noticed when it started coming back. 

So when about two months later he’s at your house, tense as fuck and annoying as hell, and you’re in a pissy mood to boot, you take a deep breath and begin. 

“You suck so bad at this game, KK, I’m actually embarrassed _for_ / you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let's be honest, it's half work, half the play, half making costumes for myself. Shush your face.


	23. WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys. Promise to update more regularly now, though it'll probably be slow until I'm done with finals next week.

He looks so pathetic.

Or, rather, he looks so pitiable. 

You know you shouldn’t think like that anymore. Pity when it’s directed toward you just makes you angry now. It makes you want to shove the other person down, make them kneel, make them understand that _you are a god_. You are their god. You made them, they have _no right_ to look down on you. 

But it doesn’t feel like looking down on him. It feels like … like _pity_. Like real, true genuine troll pity. 

You never thought you’d feel that again. 

You can practically spot the different thoughts scrolling across his face. The feeling of not being good enough, of someone else being better for the situation, of regretting screwing everything up, and you just want to erase it all. You want to pick him up and throw him into a pile and cuddle the shit out of him. You want to shooshpap the pain away and make sure nothing ever hurts him again. 

But you can’t. He’s not a troll. Not anymore. He wouldn’t understand. 

You could kiss him though. 

Could you handle that? Could you handle kissing him, getting that close, knowing that nothing could ever come of it? Would it be helpful or cruel? 

Do you want to?

(Of course, completely, totally, when wouldn’t you, who wouldn’t-)

Maybe. Maybe you want to. 

But this isn’t really about you. Not right now. 

Right now this is about him not making the most pitiable face you have ever seen for a moment longer. Fuck your emotions, fuck the problems, you’ll deal with it later. Right now you have to do this.

You’ve never actually kissed anyone before. (Dave kissed you, not the same thing at all.) You don’t really know what to do. You’re trying to think back to the trashy romance novels you would defend with your life, but you’re coming up blank. 

Okay, actually touching him would be a good first step.

You’re going to need to bring your faces together to do this anyway, and your aim will probably be better if he doesn’t move, so you bring your hand up to rest on his cheek.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, cloudy with confusion. You swallow and start to move your face towards his. You move slowly, giving him a chance to stop you if he wants to. You’re half hoping he does and you can save yourself the humiliation that is sure to come when you reveal that you suck at kissing. The other half of you is still hung up on how nice his eyes are and how you’ve never been this close to him before. (Well, maybe once or twice when you were fighting, but that doesn’t really count.)

He doesn’t stop you.

You barely notice your eyes closing as you finally make contact. 

Holy shit you’re kissing Sollux.

Holy shit. 

His lips are stupidly soft and you’re sure it’s from that honey beeswax lip balm he uses all the time. 

You’re not really sure where you’re supposed to go from here. He’s not really responding and you don’t know if you’re supposed to move your lips or something. Isn’t there usually head tilting or something? Should you just stop, is this a total colossal embarrassment that you will just refuse to acknowledge for the rest of your miserable life? You two certainly have enough of those.

You don’t know what to do so you just stop. If he wants you to back off, he’s certainly able to push you off. 

It feels like an eternity before he returns the kiss. You almost sigh in relief. You manage to stop yourself just in time though, because wouldn’t that be just the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?

It’s nice. The kiss. You get a little braver, and decide to go for the head tilting maneuver and – wow. Wow, that was a good choice. A+ for you. 

You’re breathing hard when you finally pull away, just far enough to rest your forehead on his. You’re not sure why your heart is in your throat or why you’re so out of breath. You really hadn’t expected this little kiss to affect you so much. “Fuck.”

For some reason that makes him kiss you.

You aren't expecting it. You aren't prepared this time. Not that you were prepared last time, but at least you were in control and you don’t think you can handle not being in control right now because kissing him is bringing up all these feelings, all the urges, and damn it like hell he’s going to be in control here. You kiss back with more passion, less gentle, more dominating. Your hand naturally falls to the back of his neck, tilting his head back a bit to get a better angle. You’re not really sure when he moved his hands but now he’s clutching at your chest and goddammit that is hot and all you want to do right now is toss him back on the bed and pail the fuck out of him and _what the fuck are you doing!?_

This is wrong. This is so wrong. You should feel fangs pressing against you lips because his were always stupidly large and stuck out. Or maybe you shouldn’t feel any teeth at all because they all got knocked out when you dropped him down the stairs. Either way, you shouldn’t feel stupidly blunt human teeth behind his lips. He shouldn’t be just submitting like this, he should be fighting back because trolls like to dominate and he’s always needed to be the best and even redrom sex has scrabbling and biting and scratching. He should be reaching his hands up into your hair, wrapping long fingers around the base of one of your horns, should laugh at you when you blush and make embarrassing noises, until you retaliate by slipping your finger under his shirt to tease at his grub scars. You should be mocking one another a little, tumbling around, he should be making smart ass comments that make you nearly just give up and walk away, but then he stops you by kissing you and whispers that he pities you against your lips. 

You ache inside for love of Sollux. That Sollux. Your Sollux. 

This isn’t him. You can’t put that on this Sollux. You can’t do this. You know that. Why did you ever think you could?

You pull away because this isn’t right this can’t be right and you hear someone saying something and you think it’s you but you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t even realize you’re crying until Sollux wipes away a tear and you look up at him and he looks so incredibly helpless and pitiable that you can’t stop yourself from kissing him again. Because it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that you’re so broken and so messed up and that you can never make anyone happy. Because you love this Sollux too. You love his stupid lisp that he can’t blame on fangs this time, you love his still different colored eyes, you love the freckles that dust his cheeks and nose, you love that his hair is this almost-but-not-quite black, you love that he fights you when you feel like fighting, you love that he’s twice as obnoxious about coding, you love that even if he hasn’t always been happy he finally, _finally_ has the chance to be. 

But you hate him too. You hate that he gets that chance and you don’t. You hate how the takes this all for granted. You hate that he thinks that you owe him things sometimes. You hate that he is so close to your Sollux, but not quite. But most of all, you hate that he needs you. You wish, you desperately wish, that he could just live his life and be happy, because you need him happy in the end, but you can’t help him with that. Happiness has never exactly been your forte. In any of your lives. 

So you pull away again, because the two of you need to stop this, because you are only making it worse. But you can’t make yourself move further than his shoulder, and you hate yourself for that too. 

 

When he leaves you cry. You cry because you miss your Sollux. You cry because your relationship would make sense if you were still trolls, but as humans nothing good comes of it. You cry because you want so badly to be human for him, but he makes you more troll. He makes you feel pity and hate and rage in a way that you used to, he reminds you who you really are. Reminds you that you’re not human, not really. 

Do you really want to be human?

Yes.

(No.)

It’s kind of like wondering whether you would forget if you could. 

You’re not really a troll anymore. But you’re not human either. You’re caught somewhere between the two, and all the more messed up for it. 

Maybe you’re half troll. 

It’d probably be a huge waste of time to figure out actual percentages so you just go with that.

And you’re the last one. The last troll. Even if you’re just half of one. 

Your species used to be great. Spread across the galaxy, conquering planets, massacring millions, billions. Most people wouldn’t be proud of that. But you grew up separated from the rest of troll culture, you would have done anything to be a part of it. You idolized it. 

You know, now, that it was fucked up as hell. You knew that then, really. But you still hold some kind of strange affinity for it. Trolls are messed up, but you’re proud to be one. 

You don’t want to be human. 

You want to be you. 

And you cry that much harder, because aren’t you just the most worthless piece of shit to have ever walked any earth? 

 

You dream of that night. The night that Gamzee went mad. You dream that you didn’t freeze when Eridan whipped out his wand. You dream that you saved them, that you found Gamzee before he could hurt anyone else. You dream that Kanaya never had to live with a hole where her organs should have been. You dream that Sollux stayed with you to fight. You dream that you discovered the code for spoor, that Gamzee stayed the goofy, dreamy fuckass that you were best friends with. You dream that everyone lives and nobody dies. You make yourself into the leader you never were. 

You wish that you never had to wake up.

 

Dave brings you your laptop. 

He looks upset. 

You wonder if it has anything to do with Sollux. 

A week ago, you would have minded your best bro duties. You would have made him sit the fuck down and tell you what was going on. You would have made him talk it through.

But you’re too tired for that. Too drained. So instead you ask him to leave you alone. 

You’re a selfish prick, but at least you know it. 

You think about sleeping some more, but you have your laptop for the first time in what feels like ages and you don’t plan on wasting this time. 

You sign in quickly. The hospital does, in fact, have wifi, which is a blessing. You check your email quickly (no new emails, what a shock, why do you even still have this account?), before opening up Word. 

You take a deep breath. 

Your fingers freeze when you try to type, not quite sure how to start. Where to start. The adventure was so vast, where did one begin? With the alpha trolls? With the beta kids? With the great giant green asshole himself?

You don’t know where to start. 

Start at the beginning.

But what was the beginning? Could there even really be a beginning? The very nature of paradox space seemed to prevent that. 

You have to start somewhere.

Your beginning. Where it all started for you.

_A YOUNG TROLL STANDS IN HIS RESPITEBLOCK._

Shit, humans won’t know what that is. You add a footnote with the human translation. Maybe you’ll start up a glossary. 

_I STAND IN MY RESPITEBLOCK. I AM THE YOUNG TROLL. IT IS ME. IT IS MY WRIGGLING DAY. IT IS THE DAY WHATEVER PATHETIC EXCUSE I HAD FOR A LIFE FALLS APART. I DON’T REALLY EXPECT YOU TO BELIEVE THIS. I’M NOT WRITING IT FOR YOU, TO MAKE YOU BELIEVE. I’M WRITING IT BECAUSE IT NEEDS TO BE REMEMBERED. THIS IS HOW YOUR WORLD CAME ABOUT. THIS IS HOW YOU GOT TO LIVE THE LIFE YOU’VE LIVED. THIS IS THE STORY OF EVERYTHING WE SACRIFICED TO CREATE THIS WORLD. I HOPE YOU’RE FUCKING GRATEFUL. AND IT ALL BEGINS, FOR ME AT LEAST, RIGHT THERE, IN MY RESPITEBLOCK, ON MY 6TH WRIGGLING DAY._

_BUCKLE UP, FUCKASS. IT’S GOING TO BE A LOOOOOOOOONG RIDE._


	24. never again, brosef

Rose figured out how to make hard cider.

Did people not hear that? You’ll repeat it again, just to make sure.

_Rose figured out how to make hard cider._

It’s not apple juice, not by far, but you can sort of taste the apples in it, and that’s the closest you’ve had in over a year, so you’re fucking ecstatic. You’re through the moon, you’ve jumped over the moon while a dog laughs and a plate runs away with a spoon. Hey diddle diddle~

And before anyone asks, yes, you have had more to drink than you probably should have. But it’s _hard apple cider_ , and moderation is not your strong point right now.

Okay, so maybe you’ve actually had pathetically little considering how drunk you are, but seriously, nobody gives a fuck. First time you’ve had alcohol ever, you’re allowed to be a lightweight. Besides, Rose is too drunk to notice how much you didn’t drink and the trolls don’t know humans standards, so you’re pretty much good as far as people mocking you for your pathetically low alcohol tolerance goes. 

Not that any of the trolls are around right now. Karkat left the second the “soporific beverages” came out, you have no fucking idea where Kanaya is, and Terezi and Gamzee are off doing their creepy thing. Ow. That last thought hurts. You’re not so good with the coolkid thing while you’re so drunk and you feel all warm and tingly, and you briefly indulge the sad feelings. You think you might tear up a bit. Huh. 

Rose has drunk a considerably larger amount than you, so she’s busy riffling through her giant tome of blank pages that she used to chronicle your adventures in. Now you mostly use it to write awesome raps. She’s reading them aloud and trying to figure out the rhythm and she’s so fucking off it physically pains you. Ow. You stop listening, focusing instead on the ceiling in an effort to get the room to stay still for a bit. You’re on your back in the middle of the floor because you’d gotten off the couch where you’d been drinking to go to the bathroom and whatever gravity this meteor had had decided to go screwy and somehow you ended up on the ground. You haven’t tried moving again yet. 

“Hey, hey hey, hey hey hey, Dove. Dave. Davie dave.” 

“Yo.” You remember when she was so precise with her speech. That thought hurts too, like Bro’s blade catching you in the side. Ow. 

“Davey, Dave dave, I thin – I feel – I’m gonna – “ You are super excited to hear the sound of retching. This night could not get any better. “Heeheehee, oops.” She’s not super concerned. You wonder how often she gets drunk to the point of vomiting. Ow. You usually abscond once the tipsiness sets in. Which is earlier and earlier lately. You’re seeing less of her.

“Hope you don’t think I’m cleaning that up.” 

“Don’t wooooorrrrryyyy. _Someone_ always gets it.”

“Probably your space lesbian.”

“Papaya’s not a thespian – lesbian. She’s bi – pan – she’s not one of those things you said. She’s somethin’ else.” Vomiting seems to have worn her out. 

“Passing out in your own sick? You are the essence of class, Lalonde.” 

“Eeeewwww. Not in it. I’m on the couch now, Daaaaavvveeee.” And so she is. You normally would have noticed her moving. Being drunk is strange.

She does actually pass out. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to do anything or not. You feel like letting her sleep when she’s this drunk is a bad idea, particularly when you have no idea if she’s suffocating or not, but you can smell her sick from where you are and it’s really not helping things and you don’t think moving would be the best idea right now. Besides, aren’t people _supposed_ to sleep it off?

It’s about five minutes of lying there, debating what to do, before you hear familiar stomping footsteps. Oh shit. Not this asshole. 

You don’t hate Karkat quite as much as you did a year ago, but he’s like the last person you want to deal with right now, mostly because he’s going to be fucking loud and annoying as shit. And thinking about him means thinking about Terezi and that still hurts. Ow. 

He stops short in the doorway, and you can just feel his disbelieving stare. You tilt your head backwards to see him. “Sup.”

“The everpitying fuck are you doing here, Strider?”

“Rude. I’m just lying here, chillin’ like a mofo. A man can chill wherever he wants, this shit’s still a common room ain’t it Kitkat? Ain’t a man got a right to just lie down on the floor sometimes, Kittykat? Ain’t he got any damn rights anymore, Kitten? Whatdya say, Karkitty?” You’re drunk as fuck and that’s why you can’t shut up because you’d really actually just like to abscond right now. But chances are that you’ll fall over if you try to stand up, and like hell you want him to see that. He bristles at the nicknames, and you’re just waiting for the tirade he’s about to go off on, when he doesn’t.

Karkat Motherfuckin’ Vantas, for the first time since you met him, just lets you get away with your shit. Instead of getting closer and closer until you’re directly in the blast zone of his rage fueled spittle, he leans against the doorframe and just … sighs. 

He looks really tired.

“Right. So you’re obviously drunk off your ass. Is Lalonde here?” He still hasn’t straightened up, and it bothers you. 

“Check the couch, Krabkake.” At least you’re off the cat theme now. 

He shoves himself off the doorframe and walks over to inspect the sleeping Lalonde. He doesn’t stop looking tired though. 

“Right. Well at least she’s on schedule.” He turns her so that she’s lying on her back instead of her stomach. Or at least you think that’s what he’s doing, you can’t really see. He’s bent over her, and combine that with the back of the couch and the angle you’re at and he could be molesting her for all you know. Ew. 

He shifts her a bit more, then straightens up, and she comes up with him. He’s got one arm under her knees and one under her arms, carrying her bridal style. Her head lolls back in a way that looks really uncomfortable, and he shifts a bit so that it leans against his chest instead. You are reluctantly impressed by the way carrying her doesn’t seem like a strain at all for him. 

“I’ll be right back, bulgebiter, don’t go anywhere.” This is directed toward you along with the strongest glare he can muster. Then he sweeps out of the room, still looking like Rose weighed nothing. You think about leaving just to spite him, but when you even try to sit up the room lurches, so you decide to stay put. 

You start to doze off waiting for him to come back. You find being drunk makes you not quite so aware of the constant clock in your head, so you don’t actually know how long it is before he comes back.

“Before you ask, I left your sopor-riddled ectosibling in the hands of her matesprit, so there’s no fucking need for you to make a big deal about asking me where I hid the body. I am so far from in the mood to deal with your shit, that mood is actually literally being incinerated in the heart of the Green Sun right now.”

“Shit dude, we’re in paradox space. For all we fucking know, we could be right up next to the Green Sun, grinding up against it like –“ He puts a hand over your mouth.

“For once in your miserable life, _please_ shut the fuck up. I am completely incapable of deciphering what the fuck you are saying right now.” You lick his hand. He makes a disgusted face, but does not jerk it away like you thought he would. “Now I’m going to remove my hand, and you are going to tell me if you are going to regurgitate everything in your nutrition sack through your protein chute like Lalonde.” Your face feels cold when he takes his hand away. He looks so tired as he wipes it on his sweater that you decide not to be a jackass. Besides, passing out on the couch is infinitely better than the floor, and you can only make it there with his help, loath as you are to admit it.

“Nah, Crabkat, I’m not gonna be sick on myself. Though if you want me to move anywhere, you’re gonna have to treat me like a damsel in distress.” That’s close enough to asking for help.

“Right, I will punch you for that nickname tomorrow, nooksucker.” He crouches down next to you. He worms his arm under your knees and armpits. It tickles and you actually giggle a little. He looks at you like you’re gone insane. “This will be easier if you could actually fucking help, asswipe.” 

“What, Karcrab, do you want my arms around your neck? Didn’t know you had a thing for me. Actually, that’s a lie, you’ve been humiliatingly obvious about the whole affair.” Words just keep escaping from your mouth, thick and slurred and very Texan, and you can’t stop them.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh get over yourself, Strider. I wouldn’t let you near my quadrants if we were the last two assholes left alive. Now can I get up quickly or will that make you vomit all over me? Because if you vomit all over me, I will drop you and leave you to stew in your own sick.” He shifts a little and you do feel a bit queasy. Queasy enough to actually throw your arms around his neck and press your face into his chest, which is surprisingly firm and warm. 

“G-go slow.” Shockingly, or perhaps not so shockingly seeing as if he didn’t, he’d be in the danger zone just as much as you, he goes very slow. You’re surprised his thighs can take it. 

Once he’s finally fully upright, you release his neck. To save some dignity, you throw your arms back in a over the top swoon. You briefly fight down nausea before exclaiming, “Mr. Vantas!”

“Shut up, shut up shut up, _shut up_ shut up shut up. We are not doing this right now, we are not doing this fucking ever, you understand? I am doing you a fucking favor here, the least you could do is act like it.” You roll your eyes, but decide to let him win this one. “Good. Now which way to your respiteblock?”

“Dude, just put me down on the couch, I’ll be fine.”

“Tell me the fucking way before I throw you at the wall and leave you to die of soporific beverage overdose.” You sigh in your most put upon way and direct him towards your room. You spend a good deal of the journey snarking at him and receiving very little reply. He’s trying to ignore you. It’s funny how terrible he is at it. 

It’s not a short walk back to your room, and you are mildly impressed that he isn’t even out of breath from carrying you the whole way. Somewhere along the line, sleepiness gripped you tight and shoved you back into dozing. You barely notice when he reaches your door, kicks it open, and lays you on the bed. You are fully asleep by the time he returns from the small kitchen-dining area with a glass of water and two painkillers, both of which he leaves on your bedside table. You don’t find out about these until you wake the next morning with a splitting headache courtesy of your terrible hangover. They help immensely and you wonder who put them there. 

You also wonder who cleaned up the vomit in the common room. Or maybe you dreamed that Rose vomited. You don’t think so, because you remember the smell particularly well, but who knows. Not you, that’s for sure. 

The hangover throws off your schedule, which is the only reason you’re even in the kitchen-dining-room-thing when he bustles in carrying three boxes. You’re waiting for the coffeemaker to finish your blessed brew, and you have no clue what he’s doing. You deftly dodge him and he looks at you with surprise similar to when he saw you last night. Then he rolls his eyes and continues his way towards the table, where he sets down the boxes. 

You think about absconding, but your head still kind of hurts and you just really want some coffee right now. You’re just going to ignore him. Luckily, he’s far too busy with his boxes to bother you. What’s even in those things?

You glance over and discover that food is what is in those things. Each box is completely filled with food. You’re kind of surprised, because he’s not in charge of alchemizing the food. Rose is. 

Oh. 

Huh. 

The coffeemaker dings and you pour yourself a cup of admittedly pretty shitty coffee. Karkat is putting things in the fridge. You don’t know what to say to him, so you just walk away. 

 

You just – you hadn’t even considered that Rose was shirking food duty. It hadn’t even occurred to you that she might just stop doing it. That she might be too drunk to alchemize food. 

Apparently it had occurred to Karkat. 

He’d just … just taken over. No big fit. No yelling. The meteor needed food, Rose couldn’t make it, so he did. He just … did it. 

You remember his surprise at seeing you in the common room. 

He’d said Rose was right on schedule. He’d said that like – like he knew her schedule. Like that was his schedule too. 

Did he do that every night? Carry Rose’s drunken ass from the common room to her room? 

Oh god, did he clean up Rose’s vomit every night? 

How did you not know about this? 

You’d always just kind of assumed that Karkat was the ‘leader’ of his session in name only. That no one ever took him seriously, that he never actually did the ‘learderly’ things. And yet here he is, looking after two humans that he doesn’t even really like, not even bothering to tell either of them, just doing everything to try and keep people together. 

It’s a new light on Karkat. 

 

You keep track of him for the next week or so. Alright, by ‘keep track of’ you kind of mean ‘creepily follow’ but whatever. 

He brings food to the Mayor so that Can Town is never abandoned. He actually brings canned food, along with the means to heat it up, so that the Mayor can keep a watchful vigil and have more cans to add. 

He puts bags of troll food into the vents for his juggalo friend. Doesn’t even stay to make sure they get taken, just puts them in and walks away. 

He does, in fact, clean up Rose’s vomit almost every night. He also cleans the kitchen-dining area, and does the dishes. 

He doesn’t talk to anyone except himself. 

 

“Yo.” He’s struggling to carry four boxes of food when you finally reveal yourself. “You want some help, dude?”

He shoots you a scathing glare and doesn’t answer, choosing instead to readjust the boxes. You don’t think they’re too heavy for him (you’ve sort of realized he’s way stronger than you'd thought), but there’s a lot of them and he can’t really carry them all at once. 

You flashstep and steal two of them. 

He is not pleased. “Look, bulgemunch, I can do this on my own, fuck you very much.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t, Karkat.” 

He gives you a look of almost horrified surprise. You think it’s because you actually used his name for once. “… The fuck are you up to?”

“Just wanted to lend a hand. Aren’t I still allowed to do that?”

“No. No you’re not. You lost helping privileges right around the time you set foot on this god awful rock. I’ve got no fucking clue what stupid ass game you are playing here, but back the fuck off, I don’t have time to deal with this shit. Now give me back those fucking boxes or I swear – “

“Yeah dude, you do pretty much nothing but swear. But seriously yo, I just want to help here. No ulterior motives up in this, I promise.” He gives you the stinkeye.

“Yeah, like I’m falling for that.”

“You really gotta chill.”

He heaves this huge sigh, like he’s doing you some big favor by letting you help him. “Fine. Whatever.” Then he stomps off in the direction of the kitchen. You follow behind. 

He doesn’t even comment when you help him put the food away. You work together in silence.

 

By the fourth time you show up to help him, he stops raging at you about it. 

 

“What do you do after this?”

“What?” He closes the fridge and turns to look at you. This is the first time you’ve spoken to him while putting food away in ages. 

“After the whole domestic providing food shit, what do you do?” He always stomps off back to his room. 

“I sit in my room and fondle my shame globes over the memory of you deigning to help me, the poor defenseless troll, carry shit to the nutritionblock and put it away.” His sneer is legendary. 

“Kinky.”

“Shut the fuck up, Strider.” He turns back to putting things away in the fridge. 

“See, normally I go and hang out in the common room, lighting some sick fires, but I’m kinda feeling in a movie mood, you know?” He tenses, but keeps his focus on the fridge. “And I know you’re all about movies, so I figured …” You trail off. He doesn’t respond right away. You don’t know why the room feels so tense. Not awkward, like you’d kinda thought it would be, but _tense_.

He walks over to you now, and looks you dead in the shades. “Why?”

“Hm?”

“ _Why?_ ” He hisses the word. You fight the urge to compare him to a cat. 

“Shit man, don’t got a whole bunch of options for company ‘round here.” There’s sort of an unspoken _’I need to not be so alone’_ in there, that you didn’t really mean for there to be. Because this was supposed to be so that he wasn’t so alone all the time, but you guess you need it as much as he does. 

He backs off a bit. “Only if I get to pick the movie,” he huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest, looking off to the side instead of at you this time. 

You groan. “But your movies suuuuuuuccckkkk.”

“They are cinematic masterpieces, you uncultured little shit,” he snarls. 

“That is so far fucking off dude, it’s all the way back on LOHAC being boiled in a pot by nakodiles.” He curls his lip into a sneer and turns to get more food, ignoring you again. “Fine,” you groan in your most long suffering tone, “but only if it’s a human movie.”

He thinks about this for a second. “I guess that’s acceptable, you human centric ass.”

You snort. “Least I’m not a control freak like you.” He gives you the best _’Are you shitting me?_ look you’ve ever seen out of him. 

He flips you off instead of replying. 

 

You agree to meet in the common room to watch the movie. You head back to your room to dig into your secret snack stash. He heads to his to get his husktop, which he has apparently downloaded several human movies onto. You don’t even want to know.

Surprisingly, you get back to the common room before him. You sit down on the couch to wait. 

And wait. 

And wait.

 

He stands you up. 

You think about letting it go. 

Instead, you go to his room to annoy him. 

You don’t like being stood up for new-friend-old-enemy-bonding time. You don’t like it at all.

You’ve never actually been to his room, but the meteor is boring enough that you know two different routes there. You take the faster one. 

You knock a little harder than you meant to. You’re kind of angry and you’re not totally sure why. He shuffles around in his room for a while before finally starting to open the door, you’re totally going to rap at him, just to piss him the fuck off, here we – oh. He’s uh – he’s very clearly been crying. 

“The fuck do you want, Strider?” He’s still hiding half behind the door. 

“Uh, we were gonna movie …” His eyes widen. Then he actually fucking facepalms. You forgot how over the top he is sometimes. (Well, not really over the top, because he, unlike you, isn’t doing it to be funny. He’s doing it because that’s how he actually feels.)

“Shit. Shit shit shit. Fuck. Sorry. I kinda forgot.”

“Figured. So, uh, what, uh, happened?” You’re trying really hard to be casual about this, save him some embarrassment. 

His cheeks flush a bit. “Nothing. None of your business. I just – I just had a run in with someone and some shit happened and I really don’t feel like talking about it. Let’s just – let’s just go watch a movie, okay?” He looks up at you like he kind of expects you to say no now, and he looks so incredibly tired and small and sad. 

“Sure thing, brosef.” 

 

You never do tell him thanks for all the shit he does. You’re not so great with the actually out in the open emotions. Instead, you let him pick the movies more often than you do, you help him out with some of the tasks, and you try to be there for him, in a bro kind of way. It takes surprisingly little time for you two to actually become bros. It’s not an easily won title. 

You two end up relying on each other more and more. He opens up to you about his nightmares, about how scared he is about meeting John and Jade, about how he feels like he’s a failure as a leader. And on the nights when you need help, when you can’t sleep because Bro’s death is right there, when you see Rose when she’s drunk or catch a glimpse of Terezi heading off to get down with the clown, he knows not to make you talk. Instead, he lets you choose the activities, and makes it clear that he’s here, when you need him, when you’re ready. 

It’s infinitely better dealing with this shit with someone there for support.

You vow that you’ll never let him go through shit on his own ever again.

 

You wake with a start to the blaring of your alarm clock. You’re not really sure what you were dreaming about. You think it was about Karkat. Maybe.

You’d had trouble falling asleep after the dream the orange bird you sent.

You wonder if you were remembering.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Let's all sing the song_  
>  the sacred song  
> of fanfic writers  
> who didn't plan for a fic this long.
> 
>  
> 
> Seriously, this thing is like twice as long as I thought it was going to be. Yup.


	25. WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

“Karkat?” You stop typing and look up. Kanaya is poking her head into your room. “I need to speak with you. Could you put your laptop away for a moment?” Her speech is stilted. 

You tell your laptop to hibernate for a while, and put it under the bed. You feel safest with it there. It’s dangerous now, very, very dangerous. 

Kanaya seats herself in the chair next to your bed. You shift your torso to face her. You wonder if she’s going to ask you about the game again. Last time she’d asked you if she’d killed anyone.

“We need to discuss what will happen to you after you are discharged.” You can’t tell if that’s worse or better. “You will be released under the condition that you will be under my supervision, as your father refused and I am your closest family member available.”

“To be fair, you’re probably better at supervising than that jackass anyway.”

She purses her lips. “Quite.” She’s not exceptionally fond of your father. Really she’s not fond of his job. There’s a rift. It’s a thing. 

It’s amazing how few awkward silences your lives have had. You think it’s because you used to be able just rant through them. Awkward silence was an invitation to use your words as a shovel and dig yourself deeper and deeper holes. (Not all silence was like this. You’d learned what comfortable silence felt like on the meteor.) Lately, it’s an invitation that you’ve had to refuse. Hence more awkward silences, less embarrassing rants. 

You don’t think the trade-off is worth it. 

“I can’t go to therapy.” Of course it’s you who breaks the silence, who else would it be? 

“No, no of course not. They’d lock you away.” You exhale slowly. You were afraid she’d be flippant about it. Therapy would go one of two ways: a) you’d hide the real reason behind everything you did, and get jack shit out of the experience, or b) you’d tell them and they’d diagnose you as delusional. You’d probably be given anti-psychotic medicine or something too. “Rose, you know, is in training. Perhaps –“

“No.”

“She is still an undergrad student, but her professors have all said –“

“I said no, Kanaya.” If she were almost anyone else, the strength of your glare would have her wincing. You guess she’s used to it from being around you so much. Most of your friends are. Damn it all straight to hell. 

“And why not?”

“Fuck, do you not listen to a single thing I say anymore?” She looks like she’s going to respond to that, but you cut her off. “What part of ‘too much information triggers memories’ don’t you morons get? Do you _want_ Rose, in the middle of playing therapist, to break down and need one herself? No? Then kindly take your suggestion and shove it up your ass!”

“Then what do you suggest we do, Karkat?” She’s pissed. You’re being rude. You’re just trying to get the point through their thick skulls, and you don’t know how to do that any other way. 

You bite back a rant. “… I don’t know. If I knew, do you think I would be here?” That was the wrong thing to say too. Now she’s hurt _and_ angry. Fuck. You can’t do anything right. 

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” she murmurs, playing with her hands. 

“Kanaya, fuck, shit, I’m worthless, I didn’t mean –“ The words aren’t coming out right. “Fuck, just – just don’t pay any attention to me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it is an important point.”

Awkward, tense silence. You hate it. You hate it so much. 

“… I don’t know what to do.” You hate how small your voice is. “I’ve tried, Kanaya. I’ve tried. But I don’t know where to go from here.”

“… Perhaps medication?”

You don’t mean to flinch at that, but you do. “There’s a bunch of problems with that.” She lifts an eyebrow, silently requesting you elaborate. “Well, for one, you have to have a psychiatrist. Which means therapy. Which we’ve already established as bad.”

“And the other reasons?”

You fight the urge to draw your knees up to your chest. You’ve been in far too many vulnerable positions lately. You don’t like them. You hate talking about emotions. “I’m not sure how I’d react to it. I think – there’s a chance that my brain chemistry is all messed up. Like, my body’s trying to replicate troll emotions, but the biochemistry was just so different that it keeps getting it wrong. And – “

“… And?”

“… And I don’t want to.”

“Karkat –“

“I know it’d help, alright!? I know that it’d probably make my life way easier! I know that it would fix up a lot of the screwed up things about me! But – but sometimes I don’t want them fixed! Because they – because like this I’m me. And I mean, I’m a useless, pathetic, hideous shitstain on the underwear of the universe, and I hate myself, but I don’t want to stop being me. I don’t want to lose myself, because I’m all that’s left of what used to be. And I know how hypocritical or paradoxical or whatever that is, considering what I did to end up here, but that’s how I feel! Medication would make me more – more – more like you guys and _I’m not_. I’m not one of you, and sometimes I don’t want to be. I don’t – I don’t want to be human. I mean, I do. But I don’t.” You’ve fisted your hands in the sheets to hide their trembling. 

“It is admirable, Karkat, that you show such loyalty to yourself.”

You don’t know what she means by that, so you just keep your eyes on your hands and mutter, “I’ve only ever been me. I don’t know how to be anyone else.” She puts her hand on your shoulder. You don’t look up. 

“Perhaps what you really need is some time to just think things over. Stop shoving things down and actually think it all through. Explain it to yourself, if you can’t explain it to anyone else.” 

You groan and collapse against the hospital bed. “I hate feelings.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” She rubs your shoulder and part of your back soothingly.

“… What’s wrong with you?” She pulls her hand back sharply. “You’re trying to pretend like everything’s normal and shit, but you’re obviously dealing with stuff too. If I have to share my feelings, so do you.” You’re kind of petulant as you say it. You’re not sure you care. 

“I – I have been coming to terms with things.”

“What things?”

“Have I ever told you about my terrible habit of asking questions I already know the answers to?” Your blood runs cold. 

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

Awkward silence. You wonder if these will plague you for the rest of your life. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to get through a conversation with your friends without one. 

“If it helps,” you clear your throat, “if it helps, he deserved it.” 

“Did he?”

“Big time.” 

“I … suspected. It does not change much, unfortunately.”

“It was different, before. Where we were from, how we were raised – it was just different for us. It wasn’t as big of a thing as it is here.”

“He is one of my closest friends.”

“This one is. That one … it was complicated. There was some troll stuff going on that probably won’t make much sense.”

“Are trolls and humans really that different?”

“… I didn’t used to think so. I used to think – I used to think the humans that we hung out with were just morons. That they were just too stupid to grasp the infinitely superior way of going about things. The troll way. But now – being one …” You trail off for a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, they’re really that different. About this, at least.” She nods. 

“… How deserving are you talking about?”

“You have no. fucking. clue.” She ponders this for a while.

“I would offer up my services to ‘play therapist’, as you put it, but I do not think I wish to remember more.”

“You finally got that, huh?”

“Yes, I finally did.” She’s smiling now, and it’s the first time since you were brought to this god forsaken hospital that anything good has come of talking about your feelings and you are reminded just how much you really love Kanaya. “We still have not, however, decided what you should do once you are discharged.” You make a face and groan again. “Yes, yes, I know.”

“Well, I’ve got no ideas. This is an idea free zone. Don’t look to me, because this area has be purified of all ideas. There could not be any fewer ideas here. The idea count is practically negative. There are no fucking –“

“I understand, dear, no need to repeat yourself quite so much.”

“Screw you, there is every fucking need.” 

“Be quiet and let me think, Karkat.” You stick your tongue out, but do as she asks. She strikes her thinking pose. You snort. “… Perhaps,” she murmurs, after a minute or two, “Perhaps you should attempt to sort yourself out.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She puts her hand over your mouth. You make a face that she doesn’t bother to look at. 

“Just to think it all over for a little while longer. There is no easy solution to this predicament. And I believe only you will be able to truly find the best solution.” You lick her hand. She rolls her eyes and pulls it away to wipe on the hospital bed. 

“So you’re just going to put me under house arrest?”

“That is an excellent idea. We can take turns guarding you. I’m afraid we won’t be able to leave you alone for a while.” She actually does look sorry.

“… Understandable.” You’re not looking at her.

“But regrettable.” She sounds sincere. You just nod. “We should probably assign you a main caretaker, to come stay with you, and then have shifts for the rest of us. Sollux and Dave will probably fight over the position.”

You sneer at her. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Occasionally, yes.” She’s smiling again. It’s nice. 

“Ugh, fine, do whatever you want.”

“You do have some say in this, Karkat.”

“No, because most of my say is just swearing and hating myself and the world and just negative and useless. So not really. Or I guess I shouldn’t, really.”

“Of course you should.” She makes you look at her. “This is all for you, all about you, Karkat. You need to help us figure out what is best for you.”

“And what if what’s best for me is – isn’t this?” She knows what you mean, what you can’t say.

“It isn’t.” You scoff. “It isn’t, Karkat. That’s never the solution. It doesn’t take away the pain. It doesn’t change the bad things. It just removes the chance for good things. That’s why we have to help you right now, which isn’t a bad thing. It’s not bad to need help, sweetheart.”

You are not crying again. Not at all. Your eyes are not watering, that would just make you even more disgusting and idiotic than you already are. “It’s weak.”

“No, sweetie.” She’s still making you look at her. “It’s so, incredibly strong. It’s the hardest thing in the world, asking for help. Knowing when you need it. Accepting it.”

“I don’t think I know how to.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go. Nothing is forever, not when you still have tomorrow.”

“I don’t deserve you guys.”

“Yes you do. I know you don’t believe that now, but someday you will. You deserve the world, Karkat.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Kanaya.”

“The feeling is mutual.” And she’s smiling and crying and it’s radiant and you wish she knew about morailegance because you want to tell her just how much she means to you right now. Forever. She wraps you up in graceful arms and you lean into it. 

“I don’t know what the fuck it is with everybody and hugging me lately. Seriously.”

“You’re not normally a very physical person, dear. You grew out of that. While I was waiting, before we knew for sure you would survive, I tried to remember the last time I hugged you. The answer … was not pleasing. I believe most of us are trying to make up for lost time.”

“… I’m sorry.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“I can’t – I don’t know what’s going to happen. I can’t promise things. I want to, but –“

“I understand. I am here for you, whether you like it or not. I will always be here for you, do you understand?” You nod. “I don’t expect promises. I wouldn’t believe them if I got them.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small again. You hate it. You hate this weakness. You wish you were strong, but you’re not, and it kills you. 

“Now I am going to go fetch Eridan, and we three are going to watch Easy A together, understood?”

“Yes moooom.”

“Good boy.” She presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be right back.” 

You hate how weak you are, you hate how you can’t deal with this stuff, but you will never hate Kanaya. It’s not physically possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love pale KanayaxKarkat, okay?  
> Besides, he can't just interact with Dave and Sollux. He has other friends. I swear.


	26. but 2he ii2. but we are.

“I don’t like what you did.” You’d decided to avoid the hospital until you got yourself at least a little sorted out. You’re holed up in your apartment catching up on some coding work, and you are not expecting to see AA. She must have let herself in, but you’re pretty surprised you didn’t hear the door. 

“… I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She’s standing in the doorway to your room, the hall light behind her casting her in shadow, so you can’t tell exactly what she’s thinking. She’s gone annoyingly blank, as she has a tendency to do. 

(In your dreams, memories of a ragged ghost and a strange robot flit across your vision, and guilt makes you bury the images when you wake, wanting to never have seen them.)

There are very few people that you will put away your computer for, especially when you are in the middle of writing code. Aradia is one of them. “Then tell me.” You pat the space on the bed beside you. She doesn’t take your invitation.

“I’m not her.” Her voice is still carefully controlled, but it’s getting lower, almost menacing. “I’m not that girl, the one I dream about. I’d never do the things she does.”

You eye her carefully. “What does she do?” AA’s breath gets harsher. “AA. Aradia.”

“Sollux.”

“What does she do?”

“She … I’m not her. I’m not like that. I wouldn’t do that.”

“No,” the word is careful, slow, testing the waters. “No, you’re not. You’re not her.” She lurches and you don’t know if that was the right thing to say or not. 

“They were just dreams. They – they had to just be dreams. I liked it when they were just dreams.” Her voice is wavering now, but you don’t know if it’s out of fear or anger, so you don’t move. “As dreams, they were … fun. Creative. Interesting. As memories, they’re –“ you can actually hear her swallow “– horrifying.”

Despite yourself, you let out a little snort. AA would find blood-soaked dreams _fun_. She’s got quite the taste for horror that girl. 

Aradia takes one sharp step towards you before catching herself. “What about yours?” It’s caught between deadly calm and fearful quiet, and it makes you want to cuddle up to her on the couch and watch Indiana Jones, but it also scares you a little. Maybe a lot. 

You clear your throat. “What _about_ mine?”

“Do you like him? Dream Sollux? Do you dream pretty dreams?” Now it’s the same cool, calm as before, and it sounds so hollow it hurts. 

“Not usually,” you admit.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think very many pretty things ever happened to them.” And isn’t that just the saddest thing?

“Why don’t you like him?”

“… He’s a douche bag.” She’s not letting you get away with that. “Fine! He’s – he’s _insufferable!_ His mood swings are worse than mine and he’s terrible to everyone he likes and he – he does bad things. I don’t remember much about him. Vague impressions. He’s –“ you let out a short, sharp bark of laughter “– he’s like me but worse.”

“I’m nothing like her!” Her voice rings in your mostly empty room, bouncing off the ceiling and walls, ricocheting down the hall. “I’m not!” And you want to say of course she isn’t, she’s wonderful, she’s perfect, she’s nothing like that girl you catch glimpses of in your dreams. 

_But she is._

So you freeze up and you don’t say the right thing and you just stare at her. And she just stares back. 

Until she doesn’t.

You blink and she’s gone, out your bedroom door faster than you can follow. It’s when you hear the front door open that you finally clue back in, and then you’re running after her. The elevator doors are just closing as you dash out of your apartment. You run down the stairs as fast as your luckily long legs will carry you. You almost trip and get yourself killed a couple times, but like a true asshole you don’t learn from it and don’t slow down. 

You sprint out onto the street in time to see AA get into her car. 

You have no excuse for what you do next. 

She’s pulling out of her parking spot when you throw yourself in front of her car. You’re half trapped between her car and the one in front of her, half in the road ready to be hit by another car and killed. But all you care about is that you’re all in front of her car and she can’t move unless she wants to hurt you. 

(You really hope she doesn’t want to hurt you. It’s a bit of a tossup sometimes. You blame that on her father.)

(Maybe you should blame it on the other her.)

“Sollux, get out of my way!”

“No!”

“I will run you over!”

“Not with all these witnesses you won’t!”

She slams her head down on the wheel. The car gives out a long, loud, mournful honk. All the “witnesses” are getting a little annoyed.

She yells something at you, but she hasn't moved her head yet, so you can’t hear.

“What!?”

“Get in the car!” She’s pissed now, glaring at you. But at least this time you can hear her. You rush to the passenger side door and climb in. You’ve barely shut the door before she starts driving.

Once you get yourself all buckled in, you glance over at her. Her face is hard and sharp and blank. Her hands betray her anger, white-knuckling the wheel, but the rest of her is terribly calm. 

You want to ask her where you’re going, but you don’t. You stare uselessly at the road instead, because you have no idea what you’re doing anymore. You’re not good with emotions like this, especially not with AA. It doesn’t come naturally to you, it was never how your relationship with her went. You don’t know how to deal with this. You want to, but you don’t. 

Fuck. 

 

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised when she pulls up to the hospital. Really, where else does anyone go these days?

She’s out of the car so fast you have to actually check and make sure she put it in park. You realize belatedly that she’d never buckled in herself, that she’d driven this whole way angry and unsafe. You feel guilty and you’re not totally sure why. 

You grab the keys she left behind and run after her, locking the car behind you. She’s faster than you, because she actually goes outside and does things and you don’t. But you’ve got longer legs and you’re running like someone’s life is on the line, so you’re nearly caught up to her by the time she reaches KK’s room.

Not caught up enough to stop her from going in, however. 

“I AM NOTHING LIKE HER!” She’d been so quiet the whole drive, you weren’t expecting this, but she fucking roars as she enters the room. She’s shaking, she’s so angry, and you’re caught between fear and embarrassment as you follow her into the room. 

KA is clutching at her chest and breathing harshly, ED is clutching a computer that looks like up until a second ago it had been perched on the bed, and KK … KK has drawn himself up into a slightly ridiculous looking crouch. Or it would be ridiculous if you didn’t know for a fact that that position will let him launch himself at an opponent with a surprising amount of force. (This is not the first time you’ve seen that crouch, and you doubt it will be your last.)

“Do you hear me?!” You didn’t think it was possible to _glide_ angrily, but AA does it. She’s at the end of the bed now, leaning her arms down on it and getting on eye level with KK. “ _I am nothing like her._ ”

“You’re not her.” He’s choosing his words carefully, and he still hasn’t relaxed yet.

“No. I’m not. I’m better.” She’s angry and desperate, trying to convince herself more than him. “So much better.”

Karkat tilts his head to the side. “It isn’t a bad thing to be like her.”

“ _Yes it is!_ It is the _worst_ thing to be like her!” You can practically see KK’s hackles rising. “She beat the shit out of at least two of her friends. She let people be manipulated, let people die, because it was _interesting_. **She orchestrated the demise of her own planet.** ” Wait, what?

Karkat looks murderous for a moment. Like really, truly murderous. (Your brain gives you a flash of who he used to be, grey skin and yellow claws, nubby horns and sharp teeth, and you realize that he probably has killed people.) A chill runs down your spine. 

Then he drops his head and eases out of his crouch, uncoiling to climb off the bed. He lets out this short, mocking little snort as he does, muttering, “You are so fucking misinformed.” Once he’s off the bed, it’s a few short steps until he’s directly in front of AA. She’s actually an inch or two taller than him (because who isn’t, really?) but right now she doesn’t look it. She’s still angry and every muscle is wound up tight with rage, so you’d think she’d look bigger, scarier than normal, but next to KK right now, she looks so … inconsequential. KK looks the age that he must really be, looks old and jaded and scarred, but for the first time this face is worn on the offensive. That knowledge, those years, that experience, it’s all a weapon now. So despite his height and his bandages and his hospital gown, when he sneers “Is that really what you think?” at AA, she’s the one who looks small.

Despite this, she doesn’t flinch. “ ** _Yes,_** ” she sneers back, meeting KK’s quiet anger with her own.

“WELL TOO FUCKING BAD!” You practically jump three feet in the air, because you’re not expecting the yelling. You probably should, this being KK and all, but you didn’t. “You don’t _fucking_ get to judge her! She gave up everything, _everything_ , just so that you could live! So that you could get this chance! And even if she regretted that, even if she _desperately_ wanted to be a better person, she **_couldn’t!_** If she had been _’better’_ ” – AA winces as he spits her word back at her – “this universe wouldn’t exist!”

“That doesn’t make what she did okay!” You don’t know how AA is still talking back because if you were her, you’d be shrinking away. You’d be gone.

“OH YES IT FUCKING DOES!” You can actually see the spittle flying out of his mouth as he _screams_ , see all of his teeth as he bares them and growls, see the tendons in his neck as he draws himself up to his full height, which somehow manages to look _menacing_ for the first time ever. “BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO. FUCKING. CLUE. WHAT SHE WENT THROUGH! WHAT HAPPENED TO HER! WHAT WAS _DONE_ TO HER! I’M SO FUCKING SORRY THAT SHE DIDN’T MEET YOUR _STANDARDS_ , YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHIT!” 

“ _You don’t get to just excuse her actions._ ” 

“YOU DON’T _GET_ TO JUDGE HER!”

“Seeing as I _am_ her, I think I do.”

“OH NO, YOU DO FUCKING NOT! YOU’RE NOT HER! YOU’LL NEVER BE HER!”

“ _GOOD.”_

KK just barely stops himself from throwing a punch. “YOU SIMPLE, IMBECILIC, USELESS, LITTLE, _HUMAN_ INGRATE.” The way he _spits_ human cuts you to your core, because for the first time ever, you really understand that he isn’t. 

He’s not human. 

He’s something different. Something so massively different. 

“AND PROUD OF IT!” She’s still holding her ground, and you have no idea how.

“SHE WAS **WONDERFUL!** SHE WAS SO. FUCKING. WONDERFUL. GET OUT! GET THE EVERLOVING HELL OUT OF MY ROOM RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! OR I CAN’T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT I DO TO YOU!”

To your surprise, AA listens. She turns and she’s still gliding somehow, practically shaking with anger, but gliding and graceful as fuck. She pauses at the door. “It’s _disgusting_ , making excuses for her. You’re disgusting.” She’s back to the cold, hard, blank anger, and you get the feeling she won, though you don’t know what or how. 

KK doesn’t even talk back, he just lets out this incredibly loud, incredibly painful shout, that maybe was supposed to be a swear but is so loud you can’t actually tell what it is. 

It doesn’t sound human. 

Karkat doesn’t sound human. 

AA just glides away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone basically just done fucked up.
> 
> Sorry for the not updating thing, I've been settling in back at home now that school's finished up for the year.


	27. NOT QUITE, BUT ALMOST

_17 years ago_

“Gamzee?” It doesn’t look anything like him. Not really. The hair is blonde and neatly brushed, the eyes are wide and innocent and blue, and he’s wearing a collared shirt and a tie. This kid, who looks only a little older than your two sweeps, looks nothing like Gamzee, and you hate yourself for saying anything. You feel like smacking yourself for getting your hopes up, but Ms. Paint wouldn’t like you doing that in church. (Not that the service has even started, but whatever.) You huddle in on yourself a little instead.

“How’d’ya know my name?” What?

The kid is looking at you now, or at least trying to. You’re sitting directly behind him, and he’s trying to just crane his neck around but it’s not really working. He gives up on that and just hangs his head backward, looking up at you now. You smile a bit, because that’s just _so_ Gamzee. 

Holy fuck, this kid is actually Gamzee. 

You found him. You found Gamzee. You – 

“We met before?” He’s peering quizzically up at you now. You deflate a little because – because –

“You don’t remember?”

A smile spreads slow and sweet across his face, and your heart leaps in your throat and beats in your palms. Does he – “Nah, sorry. But I’ll remember this time, promise.” Your vision swims in front of you for a moment. A dull, hollow pain takes up residence in your chest. “What’s your name?”

You ball your fists and dig your nails into your palms, trying to center yourself. “Karkat. I’m Karkat.” 

“That’s a weird name.”

Your body tingles all over and you fight to keep from shaking. “Like you’re one to talk.”

He laughs at that, a little too loud, in the way that he used to. “Guess not.” He lifts his head up and turns around, kneeling now with his hands resting on the back of the pew, fully facing you. “Can I sit next to you?” 

“Sure.” Instead of getting up and walking around, he clambers over the top of the pew and onto yours, immediately sitting down to your right. This earns him a stern look from most of the adults around. 

“Nothing like learnin’ about miracles of God with a friend.” He grabs your hand. “Do you believe in miracles?”

You bite your cheek, only just holding yourself together. “Not really.”

“Well, Imma teach you, ‘kay?” And he smiles at you, big and kind and pretty dopey, and he’s missing some teeth here and there and he looks nothing and everything like himself all at once. And you don’t know what to do because you’re not prepared, because you never thought it would be like this, because you just assumed – 

“Okay. Sure.” 

And then the service starts up and you pay attention for the first time. Because otherwise you’d be looking at not-Gamzee and you can’t handle that. So even though you know for a fact that what they’re saying is wrong, because you were _there_ and that is _not_ how things went down, you listen. And you cling to not-Gamzee’s hand because you really need an anchor right now. 

 

By the time you meet Sollux, you know what to expect. You kind of hope that maybe, just maybe – 

But no. He doesn’t recognize you. You know that. You know that when you all have to go around and introduce yourself and he doesn’t act any differently during your turn. He acts like you’re just another classmate, like you’re nothing special, like – 

You spend nap time calming yourself down instead of actually napping. (By the way, what the actual fuck, humanity? You literally send your wriggles to school to _sleep?_ What an utterly useless species! If the Alternian empire had ever come knocking -) It _hurts_ , knowing that after all you’ve been through, he doesn’t remember you. It _aches_ , and the only cure you’ve found is learning these iterations. Learning not-Gamzee’s habits and likes and dislikes and behaviors and everything, being his friend, it’s the only thing that stops the pain right now. It reminds you that at least some version of them is alive, and seeing a version of Gamzee whole and healthy, it helps. It centers you. So you take a deep breath and stare at not-Sollux’s head and plan how to become friends with him. 

The ache fades.

You curl in on yourself and wonder if he still likes computers. You guess you’ll find out.

 

Not-Nepeta looks so much like Nepeta. Her skin is brown not grey and her eyes are human, but other than that they’re practically identical. Well, she’s also a kid, but you can see who she’ll grow up to be and seeing someone so much more familiar makes you trip all over yourself. 

She likes seeing you trip all over yourself. She smiles as you stumble out words in a way that you have never had an issue with before, and her smile is the same as the one you remember. And it just makes you so happy that you smile back before you catch yourself. 

She invites you to color with her. You tell her that you don’t really know how. 

“Don’t be silly! Efurryone knows how to draw!” And then she pulls you into the chair next to her and proceeds to show you how simple it is. And she still makes cat puns and she rolls her r’s in nearly the same manner, and when Sollux comes over to join you at the table and adds his banter in, the ache disappears fully for the first time since you met Gamzee. For the first time in three years, you are well and truly happy here, surrounded by your friends. For the first time in longer than that, you feel whole. 

 

“What – “

“So, you finally made it back here, did you?”

“You – You’re alive! Holy shit you’re alive!”

“And you’re tiny. Well, tini _er_.”

“Aaaaaannd you’re still an asshole. Well, it’s only been six years, guess expecting you to change in that time would’ve been asking a bit too fucking much, huh? No, can’t ask a _Strider_ to change! Waaaaay too much work for a _coolkid_.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Fuck you, don’t you ever even imply that I am a _’coolkid’_! I have killed for less than that. I detest your kind and every member of your species. I spit white hot liquefied rage at them until they melt under my fiery onslaught.”

“Gross. Also, no one would ever, _ever_ call you cool, dude. Ever.”

“And I rejoice every fucking day for that!”

“So. Human?”

“… Yeah. We all are, I think.”

“… Cool. Good thing I didn’t go with, who knows, I might’ve ended up full on bird.”

“I thought – I – I’m glad you’re still here. Still you.”

“You still you? Even though – you know – human?”

“Basically. I – I think.”

“Cool. Cool.”

“… Have I ever mentioned how stupid humans are!? No, seriously, let’s just fucking talk about your biology for a second. What the actual fuck!? There are so many different levels of why the pantshitting eldritch gods why to your fucking genetic make-up! Shall we start with this idiotic skin? Why not, have to delve in somewhere! Why the fuck do you even come in ghostly white, honestly! Completely fucking useless for camouflage! I’m so fucking pale I practically glow! Not to – why the fuck are you laughing, you unsympathetic floating sack of shit!?”

“It’s just – I – dear sweet Jesus – I can’t – I can’t breathe –“

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up! These are serious questions! Damn, you just know that I made you idiots, because no one else could have fucked up so masterfully!”

“Oh – please – Kar – Karkat – just – I need to breathe – “

“Shut up, you massive douche. Just take deep breaths. Think unfunny thoughts. Shhh.”

“… Okay. Okay I – I think I’m good.”

“How’s your breathing?”

“Never change, Kitkat.”

“Change a whole fucking lot, you asswipe.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

“So I’ve been aging in the most painstakingly terrible way ever, what’ve you been doing?”

“Floating around. Practicing my sick beats.”

“Alone?”

“All the consorts got wiped out. You know that.”

“… Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Not – Not finding my way here sooner.”

“Aw man, what if you’d gotten here when you were like a baby? I still got my camera on me, coulda taken the most ironic baby pics man.”

“I take that back. Not at all sorry for not getting here sooner.”

“Aw man, you know you miss my chill self. Can’t deny. It’s broadcasted across all of paradox space, what with the way that you dreamed yourself here.”

“Ugh I hate you so much!”

“Woah, that’s coming on a little strong there. Don’t think my weak human heart can take it.”

“Platonically you grubfuck! I will end you!”

“Chill out Vantas. Wouldn’t want you blowing a gasket.”

“I’m done. I’m so fucking done with you.”

“… Hey. Hey. Vantas. Paradox space to Vantas.”

“Jesus fuck what!?”

“Is Bro alive?”

“… I don’t know. We’re scattered. I’ve only managed to find a few so far.”

“But shouldn’t they be trying to find you too?”

“Actually – well – I’m … I’m the only one that remembers.”

“… What.”

“I mean, I think I am. It’s unclear. I don’t know if they’ll remember as they grow up or if only some of them remember or something, but of the ones I’ve found, I’m the only one who remembers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. For what it’s worth, I’ll tell you the moment I find him. I promise. I’ll take a nap immediately after.”

“Thanks.”

“Least I can do.”

“How long do you think you’ll have here?”

“No clue. Fucking human sleep is nowhere near as deep as troll sleep, I keep waking up at the slightest fucking noises. Seriously, a pin drops somewhere in my house and I jolt up, shaking in fear for the poor fucking pin, it might get stepped on oh no!”

“Do you think you’ll be able to find your way back here?”

“I made it here once, didn’t I? I’ll find a way.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

 

It takes another year for you to see them for who they really are. For you to like them for themselves, not because they are almost your old friends. And you do. You love them for them, for their stupid human faces, their stupid human problems, these stupid humans. And you look at them and you’re a little bit awestruck, because you’ve never seen people so happy. You’ve never lived on a world like this one, where killing your friends is generally frowned upon, where compassion is valued, where love, not pity, is treasured. And it’s not perfect and people still die and wars are still fought, but your friends are fine so you don’t care. You don’t care about the rest of the world, as long as they are alright. After all, it’s not your world.

And while you are happy when you’re with them, you still feel that ache. It’s grief, you know now. It’s bereavement over the friends you never got to mourn, because you thought they weren’t dead. You thought you’d find them here. You didn’t. You thought you were saving them. You weren’t. And how can you mourn them properly, when so often you see almost them smiling and happy and so very, very alive? The ache goes away when you forget, when you fool yourself with these wonderful, amazing new friends. And you love them, you love them so much, but you wish they were the ones you were supposed to save. They aren’t. 

You love them, but they’re not the ones you need. 

But you can’t do anything about that. You can’t make them into the ones you miss. So instead, you’ll set about making them as precious to you as those that came before. You’ll value them just as much, and maybe, one day, you’ll finally yearn for them instead. You have to do something. You can’t survive like this. 

You guess you should stop calling them “Not” and “Almost”. Baby steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad little Karkat.
> 
> Also check out my profile, I started a project thing.


	28. ii'm ju2t me, you're ju2t you, he'2 hiim, but we're enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys guess where I am?
> 
> (Beijing. The answer is Beijing.)

ED and KA scurry away when the nurses and doctors suddenly descend in a swarm to hold KK down. His every muscle is locked tight and it kind of looks like he’s about to kill someone, but instead he just screams and screams and screams. It takes a surprisingly large amount of sedative, especially considering his body mass, to get him to stop. 

They debate strapping him down. You want to tell them it’s not necessary, but to be honest you don’t know if it is or not. You just don’t know. 

Do you know Karkat at all?

You thought – you’d – he – 

You hate yourself for thinking that, for needing to wonder about that. Of course you know him! You’ve known him since kindergarten, you’ve been there for him in every way you knew how to, he’s been there for you, of course you know him, no one knows him better, no one, even though Gamzee knew him longer, but no one knows KK like you do. _No. One._

Right?

You’re still standing in the corner near the door, you can’t move, you can’t stop looking at him. This isn’t the calm sleep of blood loss, but it isn’t his normal sleep either. He’s taught, the tension never left, like he’s still screaming but you just can’t hear it. He doesn’t move but every muscle is tensed, and he looks like he –

He looks angry and strange and sad and mad and so very, very alien. 

And all at once you realize how much of a dick you’ve really been. He was dealing with so much more than you ever understood. 

He’s always been KK to you. Your best friend in the universe, the one who you can always rely on, the guy who’s always there for you. And you’d just – you’d just assumed that he was like you. That he thought like you, that his mind was like yours. After all, he understood you so fully. You know he did. Does. And you’ve – you’ve struggled too, and here he is, struggling, _you two had to be the same, right?_

You think about touching his face. You don’t really know why.

He’s not the same. Not at all. He’s alien and foreign and so incredible strange, nothing at all like you thought, and you’ve just been glossing over everything he’s going through, because you just didn’t get it. 

You think you might now. A little, maybe.

His face is all sharp angles and hard tension and he’s heartbreaking and terrifying all at the same time. 

He’s beautiful. 

But so, so different.

Too different?

His world isn’t yours. It looks, tastes, smells, _feels_ completely different. And it always has. Is that gap – is it too big to bridge?

There’s no one else like him in the whole world. The whole universe. 

But that means – that means there’s no one like you. 

You look at him and you feel completely and utterly alone.

 

You don’t really know how long you stand there, the world shaking and swirling around you. It could honestly have been about a minute or maybe an hour. You really just don’t know. Left to your own devices, you probably would have stood there forever. 

You come out of this almost trance slowly, gradually becoming aware of a hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles. Mirror shades greet the turn of your head, and you could almost swear that he actually looks concerned.

“Nice of you to finally tune in.” You want to respond with your trademark snark, but the thought of actually moving your mouth to form words makes you feel sick. Dave’s ‘poker face’ breaks a little more. “Dude, seriously, you okay? You’re shaking something awful. Like there’s a nine on the Richter scale, but it’s your own personal earthquake that you’re not sharing with anyone else.” You can’t tell if it’s words or bile bubbling in your throat, so you decide not to risk opening your mouth. You didn’t even know you were shaking, but now that he’s pointed it out you wonder how that was even possible. You’re shaky and weak and nauseous and it’s really not your fault that your knees buckle a little.

The hand that was on your back loops around under your arm and helps keep you steady. You’re half collapsed against Dave and you’re breathing heavily, but you still won’t open your mouth, and he smells really nice. It helps with the nausea a little. 

(Human. He smells human.)

(You don’t know why you know what human smells like.)

“Dude. What happened?” His voice is soft and close and you want him to talk more so you don’t have to. “Kanaya said something about Aradia, but she was kind of incoherent. Not in the normal way either, where you need a dictionary on hand during her and Rose’s conversations to decipher half of their snarky broad bullshit.” You think maybe he’s talking so much because he’s nervous, but it’s helping so you don’t stop him. You probably couldn’t stop him if you tried. “Hey, Captor. What happened?” He’s not going to give up but you can still feel that acidic burn down your throat to your stomach, and all you can do is look at KK, lying taught as a bowstring in the hospital bed. “Is he okay?” He’s whispering now, and you think maybe seeing KK like that makes him scared and you remember how he reacted to KK’s violence. Something in your chest starts to hurt, and even though you still kind of hate him (you do hate him, don't you?), you lean into him a bit more.

He seems to take this to mean that you’re more unsteady now, so he guides you over to the chair that one of the nurses must have moved out of the way during KK’s … thing. It’s closer to the door than the bed now, and Dave guides you down carefully into it. The loss of the calming smell brings the bile right up to the top of your throat. It burns and tastes a bit like hot dogs. You don’t know why.

Dave hovers by your side, looking unsure and nervous. You want him to stay right by you, because he’s human and you’re human and you need to not be alone right now. 

But instead he steels himself, and starts walking toward KK. “Don’t - !” You’re up out of the chair fast enough to set the world spinning again, but you don’t care because all you can see is Dave’s hand headed for Karkat’s hard, sharp face, and for some irrational reason you think that it’ll cut him, Karkat’s features so sharp and painful that they will literally slice Dave’s hand, cut him open and bleed him dry and – 

“It’s okay.” He takes a few steps towards you. “Deep breaths.” He’s walking away from Karkat, away from danger, and you do calm down. 

He takes your hand and starts leading you toward the bed. You want to fight back, to run away, because that’s an alien there, dangerous and a little horrific, but you’re still nauseous and shaking and the world is still spinning and you don’t have it in you to fight so he just leads you over to the side of the bed while you proceed to freak the fuck out. 

Dave’s hand is back rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, while he pulls you closer and closer to the beautiful, strange, _dangerous_ thing you thought you knew. “Shhhhhshhhsh. It’s okay.” You’re making strange little hiccoughing noises and hyperventilating and you can’t control yourself at all. And then he’s moving your hand down to Karkat’s and you start to thrash because _no no no it’ll hurt you’ll bleed he’ll hurt you_ , but Dave’s grip is iron and you’re too weak to escape. “It’s just Karkat.” And then he’s wrapping your hand around Karkat’s clenched fist and you brace for the pain. 

None comes. The fist beneath your hand is clenched, warm and sweaty and shaking, but it’s not hurting you.

“It’s just Karkat.” He’s pushed his shades up on top of his head and you don’t know when or why he did that, but the way he’s looking at you, calm and compassionate and like he understands, it helps so much. It plus Karkat’s warmth bring you out of your … whatever that was. And you feel a little silly, but he’s looking a bit shaky too and you remember how afraid he was before and you think maybe he understands so maybe you don’t have to be embarrassed at all. 

And his hand is still rubbing little cirlces, but it’s moved to your lower back now, so you wrap the hand that isn’t holding KK’s fist around the back of his neck and lean in a little to rest the side of your head on his shoulder. And he lets you, because you’re both a little terrified and neither of you really knows how to deal with this. Because you’ve both been pretending you can help, but despite claims to the contrary, neither of you really knows how to do that. Because you’re both just kids still, and this is big, and KK is scary sometimes, and responsibility is terrifying, and it’s hard. It’s hard, and nobody totally understands, not really. But if you’re lucky, you can find people who almost understand, people who will let you lean on them and will lean on you in return. And everything feels like it’s falling apart, but it’s not. You’re too strong for that, all of you, and you can heal. 

Dave’s other hand wraps around yours and KK’s, and the two of you just stand there, leaning on each other and clutching onto KK, and you feel a little like sad parents looking at their kid, desperately trying to hold each other together. And at the same time you feel nothing like that at all. 

But when KK’s hand unclenches, maybe as a reaction to your heat, maybe because of the sedatives, and you get to actually hold a hand instead of his fist, and Dave’s hand rests half on top of yours and half on top of KK’s, and it feels strange and awkward and _right_ , and everything is a little bit clearer, and you think maybe, together, the three of you can muddle through this. Because KK needs a lot of help right now, and he’s isolated, by life, by circumstance, and by himself, and he really, really needs people to lean on, he needs so much help because he’s never really had it, but he’s got the both of you, and until he’s able to be there for you, you’ve got Dave and Dave has you, and one day, when he’s better ( _because he will get better_ ), he’ll look after the two of you too (probably almost obsessively, because Karkat Vantas is the best kind of mother hen), and _everything_ will feel right.

“He’ll be alright.” You’re quiet and your throat is a little clogged up, but you’ve never been as determined as you are right now.

“You think?” He matches your volume, but not your tone, and it hurts to know that Dave, _Dave_ , who you thought was so sure that KK would get better, that you could help, has these doubts that he probably couldn’t even share with himself. 

“I know better than anyone that love doesn’t cure mental illness.” You swallow to clear your throat a bit “But if we’re there for him, like you said, if we’re all there for him, then, yeah. He’ll be alright." You keep talking, because it clears your head, because you sort of need to clear this up for yourself too, not just for Dave. "It won’t be easy. He probably won’t want help, knowing KK. And there’s – there’s probably some thought processes we’ll have to change. Cycles he can’t be allowed into. We can’t just support him, we have to challenge him too, but if we, all of us, every friend he has, if we try, I know he’ll be okay.”

“Love?” You glance up to see him side-eyeing you a little bit. He still hasn’t pushed his shades back down.

“Not yet. But maybe, someday.”

“… Yeah. Me too.” He looks away, back at KK, and you smile a little because his poker face actually sucks. You lay your head back down against his shoulder and he pulls you a little tighter against him. “Not like the world’s ending tomorrow, after all. Got time to sort this shit out.”

“Definitely. Don’t have to commit to anything just yet.”

“Besides, Karkat’s gonna need some time. We can sort this out while he does his thing.”

“Yeah.”

"Cool." His voice catches a little, but he brings his head down to rest against yours. “...Shit, this is weird.”

“Completely. … Good weird?”

He pauses, but then you can feel him slowly nod his head. “Yeah. Yeah. The best weird. It wins all of the prizes.” And you can hear him smiling a little, and you can’t help but smile back, and yeah, this is absolutely going to be the best weird ever.

“Think our friends’ll be okay with it?”

“Nepeta’s already written fanfiction about us.”

“God fucking dammit.”

 

It is at least an hour later when he finally remembers you never answered him. KK has finally fully relaxed, and you and Dave are sitting at the end of the bed, each of you with an arm outstretched to hold one of KK’s hands. Dave is sitting cross-legged and your head is in his lap and his other hand is playing with your hair in an absentminded way as he watches KK. His shades are back down and you are watching KK as well, playing with the idea of asking him to remove them.

“So what happened?”

“AA said some stupid stuff.” You don’t really want to talk about it right now, because you’re calm now and you don’t want to relive the fear from before.

“Like?” He’s not going to give this up. 

“She insulted the other AA and KK didn’t take it well.” His hand stills in your hair. 

“Oh.” It’s small and sad and a little heartbreaking in a way you didn’t really know Dave could be, so you sit up and turn to face him.

“What’s up?” He’s hiding behind his shades, but you’re pretty sure you can read something seriously wrong in him right now.

“Nothing.”

“Are you actually proud of your poker face? Because it sucks ass, let me tell you.”

“Just – he really misses them, doesn’t he.” He looks at KK, a little wistful and whole lot of sad.

You think about the way KK spoke about ‘his’ AA. “Yeah.”

“And loves them. All of them.”

“Practically worships them.”

“And he – it just really sucks that he has to go through this alone.” What?

“He’s not alone. He has us.” Dave’s face is painful to look at.

“What if we’re not what he needs?” It’s a whisper, almost too quiet for you to hear. “What if he needs someone who can remember?”

“He doesn’t.”

“But what if he does?” 

A chill runs down your spine. “Why are you asking?”

He bites his lip, and it takes him a while to respond. You almost think he won’t. “I’ve – I had this dream. There’s this – this is gonna sound really strange, but there’s this alternate timeline half bird orange version of me hanging out somewhere in space right now – “

“Wait what?”

“- and he showed me this memory of his – “

“What?”

“- and we were all dead and there were these – these ghosts and Karkat was the only one alive except for orange bird me and he was covered in blood – “

“What!?”

“- and then he carried all of our dead bodies to this portal thing and he had to do it all on his own and that was apparently winning the game and he apparently went through a lot more before and I just can’t even imagine – “ You let go of KK’s hand to grab his face and make him look at you.

“You listen real fucking close, you giant douche, don’t you ever, _ever_ do what I think you’re trying to tell me you want to do.”

“But Karkat needs –“

“What KK needs is people around him who are stable enough to help him. _You_ were the one who told me that. I mean, what are your options here? You remember, and other Dave takes over your body, which means you’re dead and like fucking hell anyone wants that. Or you can’t deal with the fucking memories, as is shown by KK right fucking here, and KK blames himself and everything just gets worse. Or you forget this idea and stay sane and help KK.”

“Or I remember and I can deal with it and Karkat gets someone who can actually help him.”

“It’s not worth the risk!”

“But – “

“No buts! You understand? None. What KK needs is _you_. Not him.”

“You can’t know that.” You’re a little fed up, and you pull his shades off roughly. He very clearly does not like that.

“Look at me.” He’s still staring after his shades. “Look. At. Me.” You dig your fingers into the sides of his face and his eyes dart back up to meet yours. They’re wide and sad and almost as bright red as KK’s. “He needs you. We need you. He needs to mourn him, but he needs to live with you, understand?”

“What if I’m not good enough?”

“ _You are. I promise._ ” You lean forward to rest you forehead against his, hoping the contact will help reassure him. “It’s hard to see past self-esteem issues, hard to see yourself clearly, believe me, I know, so I’m going to tell you you’re good enough. I’m going to tell you every time you need to hear it, and times when you don’t, until you don’t need to be told because you believe it, and then I’ll tell you because you’ll still deserve to hear it. Because you’re, legitimately, so cool.” He smiles this tiny, beautiful smile at that. “And I used to be so jealous of how you always seemed to have everything under control, and of you and KK, and of how people just effortlessly liked you, and you’re a tool too, but that doesn’t mean jack shit, because I’m a douche bag and KK’s an asshole and –“ And then he’s kissing you, sweet but not at all unsure, and it takes you a minute to kick into gear. 

When you do, you move your hands around to the back of his neck, and you play with his hair there a bit, because it’s so soft and you wonder if that’s what the rest of his hair feels like before he puts that stupid gel in it. 

He pulls away, to catch his breath, you think, but your mouth just follows his on its own. He doesn’t seem to mind, and this kiss is harder, more desperate, and you lick at the seam of his mouth once, twice, before he finally opens and wow he tastes like apples. You groan a little at that, because he so _would_ taste like apples and you don’t know why that’s arousing, it just _is_.

You’re not sure when you lose the upper hand in this kiss, but you’re pretty okay with it when he takes over because he’s a really great kisser. And it occurs to you how different this is from your kisses with KK and you wonder how a threeway makeout session even works. And then he licks the roof of your mouth and your whole brain just stutters for a second, and then all your attention is back on the kissing because it’s just too good to be ignored. 

Eventually the two of you break apart because your lungs are burning and his have to be too, and you just rest your foreheads against one another, panting heavily. 

“Wow.” He breathes the word into your mouth.

“Yeah.” You chuckle a little and he snorts back and you both just sit there, connected at the forehead, quietly laughing at yourselves.

“Not that it isn’t great that the two of you have finally pulled your heads out of your asses and admitted that this is a thing – a thing, which, by the way, I called _days_ ago and neither of you fucking listened to me – but is there any conceivable way you two could make out **not** on my bed? That’d be fan-fucking-tastic, thanks.” KK is apparently awake and he is making an adorably pissed off face. He’s also blushing like mad, which is probably a good sign for the three of you.

“Jealous, KK?” You throw your arm around Dave’s neck and push your cheeks together so you can both look at KK. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you’re pretty sure he doesn’t care and you definitely don’t. “Don’t worry, we don’t plan on leaving you out.” He gets even redder as you waggle your eyebrows. You feel Dave doing it too, and glance over at him to see that he’s doing his best lecherous leer. KK looks so incredibly offended that you and Dave crack the hell up. 

“Oh shut up, fuckasses!” He’s snarling at the two of you, and that’s even funnier. 

It takes you like five solid minutes to stop laughing because every time you come close, you glance over at Dave or KK and crack up again. Eventually you and he manage to get it under control. 

“But seriously, bro,” Dave says once he’s finally gotten his breath back, “that’s a real offer.”

KK’s face makes the last of the mirth fade away. “I – I can’t – “

“Not right now,” you cut in quickly. “Not until you’re, you know, ready for that shit.”

“Think on it, kay bro?” Dave’s holding KK’s hand, trying to calm him down. “Just think it over. We get that it’s weird, and we’ve already had our freakouts. You get yours, but don’t make any decisions till after. Just think on it. And then you can say yes or no or maybe or whatever. It’s just important to know that we’re here, if you want.” You don’t know how he’s so good at that. 

“And it’s not like we have to commit to anything. Like, it’s just dating. It’s not like it has to be this big huge, soulmate thing. Just trying shit out. Whatever happens, you’re never gonna lose either of us as friends.” You pat his leg and hope that was the right thing to say.

“You’re stuck with us for life, brosef. No way around it.”

KK’s still a little freaked out, and would probably have spent the next 20 minutes talking about how much of a bad idea this would be, if someone hadn’t knocked on the door just then.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to Kar.” ED looks a little disturbed, and he’s still clutching that computer to his chest. “Alone. Now.” 

You’re about to tell him to fuck off, when KK jumps in. “Yeah. I think we really need to talk.” You stare at him, because his voice is hard and terrified at the same time. He’s staring at ED like he’s got the plague or something, and you’re suddenly very curious as to what they have to talk about. “Seriously. Fuck off. Now.” He’s glaring at you and Dave now, trying to hide how nervous he is, but you know by his tone that you’re not going to win this fight. 

You climb off the bed as Dave puts his shades back on. “We’ll be in the waiting room if you need us.” Dave’s tone is cautious, so you know it’s not just your imagination. Something weird is going on here. 

Neither of you really wants to, but you leave them alone. As you walk out into the hall, you grab his hand and twine your fingers with his. 

He glances down to look at your joined hands. “So … ?”

“I’m going to call you DV.”

“Or you could call me DS and then my nickname could be Nintendo DS.”

“DS is already a nickname and why the hell would you want a nickname longer than your actual name?”

“I don’t think you’re grasping the whole Nintendo DS ironic nickname thing here.”

“I’m going to call you DV.”

“Sigh. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.” You roll your eyes because did he actually just say sigh instead of sighing? 

But when he squeezes your hand when you walk out in front of all of your friends to go sit together, you guess you can deal with him being an overdramatic tool sometimes. He’s worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, on the plus side it's twice as long as usual.
> 
> So I reread the entire fic, and have now planned out the ending. (I don't know why you guys read this, it's really sad and I flinch every time I see a typo.)
> 
> Also I noticed how at the beginning I'm like "why am I updating so fast!?" but after like chapter 21 I'm like "hrm two weeks between updates, sorry, I promise I'll update faster" and then I don't.


	29. "DO OR DO NOT, THERE IS NO TRY" IS FUCKING BULLSHIT

He shuts the door carefully. You wonder if he thinks you’re going to flip out at him like you did at Sollux. 

“So I suppose it’s too much to hope that you kept your freakishly pointed nose to yourself and didn’t invade my privacy by looking at my still open shit that I knew I should have saved and closed but couldn’t do with you and Kanaya in the room because you two are the biggest fucking gossips in any universe ever?” 

“Come on Kar, you know me better than that.” Yeah. Yeah you do.

“You read the entire fucking thing, didn’t you?”

“There’s not even that much of it, Kar. Only like 30 or so pages.” He’s uncharacteristically quiet. Subdued even. 

Afraid or trying to calm you?

“Well, excuuuusseee me, I’ve only been writing it for like a day or two, and I couldn’t exactly get much done with you asshats pestering me almost every waking hour, honestly could you people be any fucking needier?”

“Kar.” He’s inching toward you now. He’s treating you like a wild animal, like at any second you could flip out and – and what? Punch him? Hurt him? Is this going to be your relationship now? He fucks up (because you know he’ll do that again, he’s _Eridan_ ) but rather than try to bluster through it, he treats you like you’re made of spun glass? 

When your Eridan died, you weren’t sad. You weren’t upset. You’d watched him kill your friends, right in front of you, and you knew he had to die, and you were a troll, so that was that. You weren’t sad that he was dead. That didn’t mean that you didn’t miss him. You missed him from before the game, from when he came to you for advice and then blatantly ignored it. You missed the debates about movies, the talks about quadrant dynamics, hell, you even missed his fucking neediness. By the time you actually got to meet him, he’d changed. The game had changed him. His broken moiraillegance had crumbled at the exact wrong time and he wasn’t the Eridan you knew. By the time he went on his killing spree, he was a shadow of the kid you knew. So you weren’t sad he died. But you still missed him. The way he used to be.

He’s one of the closest. He’s so close to your Eridan, pre-Sgrub Eridan, your friend. One of your best friends. And god, the two of you had _the same_ dynamic, and it was what you had missed _so_ much, and you had ruined all of that, hadn’t you? You’d wrecked it all by being an idiot and not taking proper precautions and not just fucking managing to actually fucking kill yourself right. 

“Kar, look at me.” He’s sitting in front of you, head titled and back curved so that he’s at your level, and it makes his ridiculous and completely unnecessary glasses slide down his nose a little, and oh god this was the kid that you had expected to meet. This was the asshole that you had planned to have movie marathons with, marathons that would slowly turn into him trying to casually ask you for advice about Feferi, or Vriska, or Kanaya even. Except this kid in front of you is sweeter and squishier and would never kill you for something you couldn’t control, and you don’t know if that’s good or bad. “Kar, I need you to stop freakin' out for a second and just listen to me.”

“Have you remembered anything?”

“You’ve, like, barely even gotten to me, Kar.”

“Have. you. remembered. anything.”

“Oh for god’s sake – no, no I haven’t.” He’s getting exasperated and it’s making him less cautious and that is so much better. And you feel like shit because you’re manipulating him a little, trying to make him react like the Eridan you want him to be, but you know how to deal with that Eridan, you don’t know how to deal with this one that is gentle and soft and _scared_. Scared of _you_. “Now can we please actually fuckin’ talk about this?”

“No.”

He makes a face, because you’re being a little shit. “Too fuckin’ bad then. We’re talkin’ about this.” You don’t want to talk about it. All you’ve done for days is talk about things. You just want to ignore this, have him never bring it up again, but Eridan’s almost as stubborn as you and twice as whiny, and you’re not sure that this is fight you can win. 

But, fuck, you’ve lost too many battles over the past few days to just give in. 

“Kar, if we don’t talk about this, I will go read this aloud to Rezi and sic her on you.” 

“Why is everything so fucking difficult with you people? Why can’t you just respect my fucking boundaries!?”

“Because respectin’ your boundaries landed you in the hospital. Because you internalize guilt like nobody else, not even like Soll does. Because as much as you yell and scream and call other people incompetent, in the end you always blame yourself. Because both Rose and the hospital psychiatrist have diagnosed you with Major Depressive Disorder, and before a week ago none of us had a _goddamn clue_ anythin' was wrong! I’m sorry Kar, I’m sorry we have to push you and I’m sorry you feel like shit, but the fact is that you _need_ help and you have no idea how to ask for it. You won’t ask for it, not even if you’re dyin’ for want of it. Kan confirmed that.”

“She told you about that?”

“Do you think we don’t talk about you? Fuck, Kar, we’ve spent most of the past week outside your door! We’re desperately trying to figure out how to help you without just hurtin’ you more!” 

“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to spend your days in a hospital. You should all just go home, I’m a mess, you can’t fix me. I’m not fucking worth it. I’ll just hurt you.” 

His hands are harsh in a way that you aren’t quite prepared for. He’s gripping your shoulders tight and his eyes are blazing and you think maybe he’s fighting back tears. “Better to spend months here than a single hour at your funeral.” 

“… That was quite possibly the cheesiest thing you have ever said. Ever. Dear god Eridan, why?”

“Shush Kar, we’re havin’ a moment.” And his arms slip around your neck and press your head to his chest and you guess this could be called a hug, except for the fact that your neck is straining in the worst way and his collarbone is digging into your eye through his fucking scarf and _how does that even happen_ and god fucking damn it Eridan is the worst hugger ever.

“Can the moment be over now?” You voice is muffled by a combo of his shirt and scarf. You can practically hear him roll his eyes as he lets you go. “Jesus H. Christmas Eridan, who the fuck taught you how to hug, because that person needs to be strung up by their entrails to die a slow and painful death, with you hugging them the entire fucking time so they know exactly what terror they inflicted upon the world.”

“Why you gotta be so mean Kar?”

“It was fated by the stars.” He rolls his eyes again, 100% done with your bullshit.

“Okay, that’s enough evadin’ the subject.” Damn. “You know, Kar, you’re actually a pretty good writer.” 

“Thank you for the most mediocre praise you could possibly give me.”

“Shut up for a sec, I’m not done. You’ve got this great voice, really strong, really gives you a sense of the character narratin' it – “

“There is no fucking character narrating it, I’m fucking narrating it, stop being purposefully oblivious you piece of rotten, festering garbage –“

“ – which, given that it is you, worries me a little. Now, I could go on about the blatant undercurrents of self-loathin' in here, but we already know about that, and there’s somethin' even worse.” What? “Kar, you can’t be a good writer if you worship your characters. You have to appreciate them for who they are, you can’t put them on a pedestal.”

“… Is that a really fucking roundabout way of telling me that you agree with Aradia and I need to stop ‘worshipping’ my friends? Because, let me tell you, I don’t fucking worship them in any way, shape, or form! They were assholes, morons, idiots, dicks, bitches, and douchebags, and I know that!”

“Do you really? Because, despite seemingly acknowledging that they have faults, you refuse to let them take responsibility for their actions. You talk about the culture, about the struggles, about how you personally fucked up, and it all adds up to you tryin’ to excuse what they did, usually by takin’ responsibility yourself.”

“But – “

“No, Kar, listen. A tragic backstory does not excuse a person’s actions. It gives them context, but doesn’t mean they didn’t fuck up. I would know.”

“What does that even mean?”

“...I used to dream about this every night. About him.”

“No. Please, no.”

“It was at a point in my life when I could have very easily become like him. Desperate and alone, driven to extremes. Makin’ mistakes right and left. Because, Kar, he made mistakes. He made a shit-ton of mistakes. And yeah, you can try to excuse them, like I tried to say it was just dreams, but that doesn’t really help, does it? Because if you don’t take some form of responsibility, you can’t grow from them. I didn’t know how he was me or I was him, but I knew that I had the chance to own up or turn into him.” He’s got this sad, soft, little smile on his face and his eyes are cloudy and you think of when he was 13 and he ran away, and you think of when he was 16 and he crashed his car, and you wonder how you missed all this going on in his life. “Kar, you can love them without makin’ excuses for them. You can love them and still understand that they fucked up. It doesn’t all have to fall on you.”

You have to swallow twice because your mouth is too dry for you to really speak. “I’ll – I’ll try.”

“And Kar, you can’t worship us either.”

“What?”

“Us, these versions of us, no pedestals for us either. We’re not gods, or perfect beings. We fuck up as much as they did, and we’re as strong as they were too. You’re not going to break us, or _taint_ us by getting’ close or lettin’ us help you.”

“Do you have any fucking clue how dangerous –“

“I’d say I know better than anyone how dangerous these memories can be. And how helpful. I’m not sayin’ go around and tell everyone all their darkest moments, or that you shouldn’t be cautious at all. I’m just sayin’ that we don’t like being tiptoed around anymore than you do. So, for once in your life, try to learn how to just _walk_ , okay?”

“… I’ll hurt you. It would be so easy to slip up, to send someone spiraling into –“

“Into what you’re goin' through right now, right?” You nod, slowly, lips tight and eyes a little more moist than you’d like. “And if we went through that, you’d do everythin' you could to help us, right?” Augh. “I know it’s hard, and it’s going to keep being hard, but eventually it will get easier. You may even be happy one day. And wouldn’t you rather have friends than gods?”

“… I hate when you goddamn people make me question my long running thought processes. It makes me change my fucking mind, and you know how much I hate change. Get out of my head!”

“You’ll try, won’t you Kar?”

“Ugh yes fine I’ll try, okay!? But I don’t promise to do well or succeed or some shit, because I can’t do that, okay!?”

“Good.” And his smile is blinding and he’s hugging you again and he has not miraculously gotten better at it in the past few minutes, he’s still shit and it’s still uncomfortable and his nose is sharp as fuck and you really need to send him, Jack, and Terezi to some sort of class because this is a travesty. 

(It’s wonderful.)

“So, you, me, and Kan gonna finish that movie or what?” He finally pulls away after way too fucking long.

You are really, really tempted, but you have something to do. Something you really don’t want to do, but you have to do it anyway. “Well, as long as I’m being fucking proactive or whatever, I should probably talk to Dave and Sollux.” You grimace your way through the last half of that sentence.

“Ooooooooo-“

“No, no, no, no no no no, a million times no. No fucking way. Never ever ever. Shut the fuck up and get the hell out of my room. And send them back in. AND STOP MAKING THAT FUCKING FACE!” He cackles as he exits the room. You glare after him before quickly hiding your computer back under your bed. Not a chance in hell anyone else is getting their grubby little paws on that.

You have about five minutes before they actually get here, because Eridan will totally be a little bitch about telling them and do it in the most roundabout way fucking possible. So you have about five minutes to freak out quietly.

Okay, so maybe it had been really, really hot to see them making out on your bed, and maybe certain parts of you were not at all happy about your indecision, but goddammit, this is not something that you can jump right into. Sollux still has bruises from you, which isn’t at all healthy, and you’re not exactly emotionally stable, and you’re in a really bad place right now. Throwing romance into the situation could very easily just make things worse. 

So what you need to do, obviously, is make them understand that.

( _You’re not going to taint us._ )

God fucking dammit. 

Okay, so maybe you really, _really_ want this.

And maybe, maybe they are really good at taking your shit. 

And maybe, while you really hate getting help from anyone, getting help from them might be slightly less awful than getting from other people.

And maybe you guess you should probably at least give them a chance to talk about it with you.

God fucking dammit. You hate talking about things. 

(Lies. You just hate talking about these things.)

(How do threesomes even work? There are no romcoms to adequately prepare you for this situation.)

 

They’re holding hands when they walk in and for some stupid reason it makes your heart do stupid fluttery things, and you half wish that they would just forget about you and be happy together. 

(The other half wonders how threeway handholding works. Do you form a triangle, like you’re trying to summon something, or does only one person get to hold the other two’s hands?)

They take their spot back at the foot of your bed, and look at you expectantly. You wonder if they’re as nervous as you.

For about a full minute, no one says anything.

“So-“ Sollux trying to start up makes it all come out in a rush.

“So trolls had four kinds of romantic relationships, two of which happened to include sex, so while it really isn’t the same thing at all because they’re totally distinct feelings and not actually at all analogous to a polyamory relationship in humans, it does mean that I am not completely put off or shocked by the idea of more than two people in a relationship. However, let’s fucking face it, I’m a mess. Not even a hot mess, because there is nothing fucking attractive about having a mental disorder, sorry Sollux, no, you bipolarness is not hot, and neither is my very serious depression. I am currently more fucked up in the head than you can even begin to imagine, and as well as I hide it when I talk to you morons, I do have serious fucking issues. I have episodes and rage issues, I am a paranoid little fucker and I hate sharing and talking about things. Being in a relationship with me would suck balls.” Dave looks like he’s about to interject. “No, it would. It would suck all of the balls. I have a hard time being intimate with anyone, I have some really fucking weird body image issues, and god fucking dammit do I hate talking about this shit. You have no idea how much I despise talking about this.” You pause to actually breathe. “That being said, I maybe kind of need some people I can be okay being vulnerable around, and maybe, I mean, if you asshats wanted, we could like slowly possibly work up to something. Like really slowly. Molasses in motherfucking January slowly.” You glance up through your bangs to see them both wearing the biggest shit eating grins you’ve ever seen. You’ve made a terrible mistake.

“Whatever you need, Karkles.” And despite the stupidly smug smile, Dave’s voice is soft and gentle and yeah, okay, maybe this could work. If he could just stop calling you those stupid fucking names.

“So how we gonna do this?” Sollux has grabbed your hand, which prompts Dave to grab your other one, so apparently you three are gonna do the satanic handholding thing.

“Kanaya kinda said that I maybe need someone to look after me for a while. Like,” you swallow nervously, "live in look after me.”

“I thought you said we were taking this slow. Little soon to be moving in together, KK.”

“Oh suck my bulge, Tholluthx.”

“Well, that does usually come before moving in.” You did not think Dave's grin could get smugger, but apparently you were wrong.

“Oh god, I have two of you now, don’t I? Every single conversation is just going to devolve into a series of innuendos, isn’t it?” They just keep grinning at you, and you hang your head in submission. Oh well. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it.

This is one of your more lucid days (excluding that little Aradia freakout), and you’re honestly not sure how they’ll deal with your less lucid ones. You don’t know if they’ll be able to live with the days where you can’t even bring yourself to speak because you just want it to come out in Alternian. You don’t know if they’ll be able to work through the times when you feel wrong from the inside out, because your organs are wrong and your skin is wrong and your hair is wrong and everything is just wrong. These are things that you have kept to yourself for a long time. Things that you won’t even tell Kanaya about. Things you _can’t_ talk about, but things they’re going to see. It might scare them away. 

You never learned how to ask for help. There was never anyone to help you. You don’t know if you’ll learn that, but you guess it can’t hurt to try. Because, fuck, you’ve tried everything else. No sense giving up just yet. You’ve lost too many battles recently to give up without a fight. 

It’s a long, hard war ahead of you. You’ll try. That’s all you can promise. You’ll try.

But as Sollux squeezes your hand and Dave’s lips brush your knuckles, you think that might just be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> Seriously, next chapter is epilogue where we check in on the boys living together and Kankri makes an appearance, and then we're done here. 
> 
> Except I totally have some one shots that are going to make appearances. Hell, I might even try writing NSFW, though it'll probably suck.
> 
> (Also I have some requests to fill that I will def get to once PSIS is done, promise)


	30. Epilogue - The Road to Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been a long time coming. 
> 
> I was writing a one shot that I wanted to finish before finally posting this, but I think it's about time this went up. Closure and all that. I should have put it up ages ago, before school and sickness and my new fic got in the way. And, honestly, I kind of just didn't want this fic to end. 
> 
> But here it finally is,
> 
> I just want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who read and loved this fic and made it as big as it is. I've never written anything like this before. This was my first long fic, and, to be honest, the first fic that I finished. 
> 
> I posted the first chapter on a whim. I wrote it to avoid homework, and then people liked it, and I just kept writing it, and it became this gigantic thing that I could never have seen coming. This was supposed to be a short little shipping fic. This was meant to be dumb. Karkat was supposed to be out of the hospital fairly quickly. It was supposed to be about recovery, not this big emotional journey that it became. That I'm really glad it became. That it became because of you guys. 
> 
> I can't thank you guys enough. I really can't. And, seriously, if any of you ever need someone to talk to, shoot me an email or a message on tumblr. I'm always here to listen. 
> 
> This AU will be continued. There will be more on Karkat's slow recovery, on Karkat, Dave, and Sollux's relationship, on the myriad of other characters. Kankri will come to visit in one, I promise. And I'm even planning one about Dirk. This isn't over. I mean, it is, but it isn't. I promise.

He’s nervous as he unlocks the door. The last time he was here – was it only a week and a half ago? Was that all? He knows better than anyone that it doesn’t take much time at all for lives to change, but still … it’s been a long time since his life changed that rapidly. Since everything shifted so quickly. 

A bag thumps to the ground next to him as Sollux grabs his hand. “Okay?” Dave asks, a little further behind. They’re moving in with Karkat, for the time being. They’re lugging too many bags between them, but they wouldn’t let Karkat help. The doctors still want him to be careful of his stiches, and he’s hasn’t moved around much lately. Best to ease back into things. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he has to swallow after because his throat is dryer than he thought. Shaking his head a little, hoping to shake off the watchful stares behind him, he roughly shoves the key into the door. The key turns easily, and the door swings open to slam against the wall. 

He’s not okay. 

It all looks the same. 

So much has changed.

Hasn’t it?

His friends came here and cleaned it all up, he knows that. He wonders if he even has a bed anymore. He wonders if all his pillows had to be thrown out, if he’ll have to buy new ones. It’s not that money is a problem, it’s that some of those pillows had been given to him over the years. He remembers one Kanaya made him for Christmas one year. He doesn’t remember if it was out of the way of the blood. He doesn’t know if he ruined it. 

“KK?” Sollux’s voice is small and concerned. Karkat is just standing in the doorway, looking scared to move. Karkat is worrying him, this whole situation is worrying him. He and Dave didn’t want Karkat coming back here, not yet, maybe not ever. 

But Rose had said Karkat needed stability. He needed a safe base. If everything changed rapidly, there was a chance he could fall back into bad habits. Not that that was exactly the right phrase, because he wasn’t exactly out of those bad habits yet. But Rose had said that starting completely over would be unstable and unlikely to last long. Karkat needed to build on what he had before, needed to create new habits out of old, needed to learn to live the way he did before, but better. 

Dave and Sollux understood, but it was hard to remember all the logical arguments when Karkat looked so … lost. 

So distant. 

Karkat is walking through ghosts. He doesn’t remember being taken from here, he doesn’t remember leaving. He was unconscious by then. The last time he walked through this door, he wasn’t in turmoil. Not like now. Then … then he was calm. Collected. Certain that this is what he needed to do, more than anything, this was the right path. Certain that he had found the way. Set. Determined. 

He follow’s his past self’s path. He sets his keys down on the table. He kicks off his shoes and walks slowly down the hallway. He reaches his door. 

He really doesn’t want to open it, but he’s started retracing what happened, he can’t stop now. He opens the door slowly. 

He’s looking for his sickles, because that is what he grabbed next, but of course they’ve been removed. He wonders if they’ve been thrown out. Or melted down. He wonders if he still has knives in his kitchen, or if all that’s left is plastic cutlery. 

He wonders how much really has changed, just below the surface. 

He wonders which he’d prefer. Change, or no change? The proof that his death has a surprisingly small influence on the world around him, or the fact that his entire world will never be the same again? There was a comfort in the sadness, in the despair. There was a stability there. After all, what does he know better than self-hatred? What does he know better than depression? Does he know anything else at all?

He turns to where the bed used to be. 

His eyes begin to water. 

It’s got to be a new mattress, absolutely has to be. No way that survived. But it’s also a new quilt, clearly made by Kanaya, with his symbol on it. And hers on the other side, if the turned down corner is anything to go by. And a new knitted throw, that has to be from Rose, though god only knows how she made it so fast, with everyone else’s symobls, even hers and John’s and Dave’s and Jade’s. And stuffed animals lean up against the pillows, a bee (Sollux for sure), a spider (goddamnit Vriska), a white, fluffy dog (Jade’s, he’s seen it before, she gave him one of hers), and oh god there’s that pillow Kanaya made him years ago and he doesn’t know if it was never damaged or if she saved it, repaired any damage that was done, and god, he loves them all so much. 

And now he’s crying and Dave and Sollux are just standing there in the doorway, unsure of what to do, because Karkat’s only taken one step into his room and he’s sobbing silently and neither of them know if comfort would help or hurt in this moment and one wrong move now could change their entire future.

And Karkat is just so _grateful_ for all these wonderful people, especially these two idiots behind him that he’s just struck dumb by it. He loves them all and for some mad, incomprehensible reason they seem to love him too, and he can’t believe it. 

And everything has changed, but nothing has, because they loved him before too, he knows this now, maybe not in the same way, but they showed it a million different ways and he never saw them clearly before. He couldn’t see clearly, he still can’t, but even as his vision is blurred by tears, he knows that it’s really just clearing up, and one day he’ll be able to see everything the way it is, the way it really is. And he’ll still doubt and worry and fuss and hate, because that is who he is, but for the first time in this life, he knows that they love him, the real him, not the him he put up in front of them, because they saw through that somehow. They saw past the walls he put up to protect them, maybe not to the sadness within, but to the person he is at his core. They saw that and they love him anyway, and even though he won’t always believe that, he _knows_ it now, and that can never be taken from him. Even on his darkest days, even on their darkest days, because he knows there will be more dark days, there always are, he will _always_ know they love him. He will never lose that. 

He gropes behind him vaguely and almost instantly their hands are in his. And he smiles this watery, beautiful smile, and leads them to the bed. He sits them down and then grabs his laptop. 

“Whatcha doin’, Karkat?” Dave’s trying too hard to be casual and Karkat knows that he’s worrying them but he can’t talk right now. He could open his mouth but nothing would come out, no sounds, nothing at all, his voice has been stolen by feelings that can never be given voice. On another day he might have tried, might have stumbled over words, but today he just kisses Dave’s temple before he curls up between them, laptop on his lap, already loading up the next episode of whatever they were watching on Netflix yesterday. Sollux’s hand immediately winds its way around his again, and Karkat brings their entwined hands up and presses his lips against the back of Sollux’s. And then they’re all fighting back tears, because it’s the three of them curled up in the spot where not two weeks ago Karkat was dying, and now they’re holding hands and watching How I Met Your Mother, and so much has changed and so little has as well, and they’re not sure how to deal with it. They’re not sure any of this is going to work out, they’re not sure they’re not just going to crash and burn. Sometimes it feels like just a week and a half, the most emotional week and a half of their lives, is too little time for them to already be feeling this way. And sometimes they feel the vastness of that time stretching all around them, the long hours of it, the emotions that aged them years and years in a week and a half. And god knows they still have a million and one obstacles to fight their way around. Karkat doesn’t know if Dave and Sollux will stick around once they realize how bad it really is, once he retreats to old habits, old issues. Sollux doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to provide Karkat with the support that he needs, if one of Sollux’s own attacks won’t be triggered, if Sollux will end up hurting more than helping, if Dave really will end up punching him out for being a shitdick one day. Dave doesn’t know if he will be able to resist trying to remember, if he will be able to deal with never being the Dave Karkat really wants, or if maybe one day he _will be_ that Dave, if he can stay strong when Sollux needs help too, or if he’ll be able to accept help when he’s the one who needs it. It’s a crazy, wild leap of faith they’re taking here, despite all reassurances that they’re taking it slow. And it could end so, _so_ badly.

And they’re so, _so_ scared. 

But when Dave realizes Rose put a smupett on the bed and chucks it across to room to uproarious laughter from Sollux and a wordless, angry noise from Karkat for almost knocking the computer to the ground, when Dave apologizes by making popcorn, when he re-enters the room to see Karkat and Sollux wrapped up in Rose’s throw, only to pester them until they share it with him too (which they were planning on doing until he started whining, the idiot), when the three of them are wrapped up snug in a blanket meant for one, laughing and throwing popcorn at one another and trying to catch it in their mouths, when the tear tracks are gone from their faces, these doubts fall to the wayside. 

Because in the end, what they need is each other. Each other’s love and support, and they are lucky enough to have it. And nothing is final yet and it has been a week and a half and everything has changed, but somehow they have managed to find the good in it, and they have managed to find each other. 

Nothing is quite resolved, and this is in no way the end for them. At no time in any of their many lives has the path before them been smooth. But, then again, the path is rarely smooth for anyone. And everyone has a shot at happiness. And, this time, they’re pretty damn close to it. 

It’s not a happily ever after. It’ll never be exactly that. Not with what they’ve lived through. Not with what they have to face ahead of them. Recovery is bumpy and full of back steps and retreats and pit falls. 

But people make it there. With support, with understanding, with hard work, and with just a little bit of love, people make it to where they need to go. 

And, together, they’ll make it. Someday. 

For now, they’ll cuddle up on a new bed full of the physical embodiment of their and their friends’ love, watching a silly show, eating popcorn, and loving each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Will continue when I can. Something I'm trying to do quickly, just needed to get it out of my head. Not betad.
> 
> Inspired by this post: http://that-fucking-update.tumblr.com/post/47758528695/s-guy-ectorobotic-sleepymolester 
> 
> Yes I did do this instead of homework, how'd you know?


End file.
